


Closing Doors

by lori (zakhad), zakhad



Series: Captain and Counselor [45]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-01 16:32:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 63,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6527638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/lori, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zakhad/pseuds/zakhad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We are always in a peculiar ongoing negotiation between the past and the future... not what we will be, not what we were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

What

 Do sad people have in 

Common?

 It seems

 They have all built a shrine

 To the past 

And often go there

 And do a strange wail and

 Worship. 

What is the beginning of

 Happiness?

 It is to stop being

 So religious

 Like That.

  
– Hafiz

 

 

  
“When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.”

― Helen Keller  
  
  
  
  
=====================  
  
Deanna watched the classroom full of cadets work in small groups while the medical staff supervised first aid training. At each table, four cadets practiced splinting arms. She had gotten to know them all -- Guerney, Ma'grill, and Dorsey were not the worst choices to be grouped with Jil Arran, but she could tell the Cardassian girl was struggling.  
  
Dorsey smiled encouragingly at Jil while she wrapped his arm slowly. Hopefully, she did not notice Carrick's stare from the next table -- Joshua Carrick had an unnatural interest in Jil, and not the type that led to friendship. Deanna had sensed it in the first orientation meeting with the cadets when they'd come aboard.  
  
"Commander?"  
  
Deanna turned to look at the chief medical officer. "Greg?"  
  
Mengis smiled in his usual understated way. "We'll be moving on to respiratory issues shortly. I thought we might take care of an exam while the cadets are working."  
  
"I'd like to stay and supervise, actually."  
  
"They have another three hours of training left. The exam should take no more than twenty minutes."  
  
Deanna glanced around the room. Most people were focusing on the instruction and not each other. Carrick was still dividing his attention between Jil and the assigned task -- he was the one being splinted, and it wasn't enough to keep him from staring.  
  
There were eighteen cadets in the room, and five medical professionals. Surely Carrick would do nothing more than stare.  
  
"All right." She turned to walk from the room with the doctor.  
  
The exams were usually brief, and Deanna usually stopped in to see the twins afterward. She watched Greg go through the usual scans.  
  
"You appear to be fit enough, as usual." Greg stood in front of her, holding a hypospray in front of him in both hands, in a curious manner. "I wonder if my sensors might not be telling me everything."  
  
Deanna felt herself stiffen, her head coming up a little. "I wonder why you would wonder that?"  
  
"You're good at masking symptoms."  
  
She tilted her head, blinked, stared at him. "You think I'm pretending to feel better than I do?"  
  
"You were severely depressed. And now you appear to be fine. I think you understand why I would question a sudden change."  
  
Deanna smiled a little, thinking about Jean-Luc -- he'd been so determined not to let her fall into darkness. "I can't call it sudden. I can't say that I'm not still feeling the loss. It's hard to explain."  
  
"You're saying that despite continuing to feel depression, you have been able to cope?" Gregory nodded slowly. "Because of your bondmate?"  
  
She said nothing, rubbing her lips together. Greg had the report from Dr. Leral, the specialist on Betazed. He could make his own judgments as to what it all meant.  
  
"You know I'm not going to -- "  
  
"I know, Greg." It was, of course, the impulse of all humans to seek more information, about each other. It was how relationships were maintained. She was sure Greg would never divulge anything personal, but she was also aware of how information about her husband influenced the captain's relationships with the officers aboard their ship.  
  
Gregory stared off to the right, thinking -- she could sense it, and she knew she could pluck out the thoughts as they crossed his mind, with just a little effort, but she didn't. "You are doing well.  I will see you next week."  
  
"All right. Thanks."  
  
=====================  
  
Jil returned to the cabin she shared with Cadet Ma'grill, the Kornikosian female. Ma'grill wasn't there. They had requested to be housed together out of a shared disinterest in forming close attachments with any of the other cadets, and so far it was working fine for both of them.  
  
First aid training had been as she'd expected. A lot of species-specific information would be taught when the course resumed in two days. Today had been about the setting of bones in primitive environments. Not too taxing, despite Carrick's staring, which continued to annoy but not be impossible to ignore.  
  
Jil sat at the desk on her side of the room, next to the bunk she used, and checked messages. She hadn't gotten one from her mother in days. That was unusual. Mother hardly let more than three days go by without responding to one of her messages. Still, if there were something wrong, she would have been notified by now.  
  
She brought up the program she had been using to hone her language skills, and practiced Standard -- she was developing a better understanding of verb tenses. She didn't like relying on the translator. After an hour of Standard she would exercise in the gymnasium, have dinner, and go to bed early. She had a meeting with the captain tomorrow and a half-shift in the afternoon in engineering.  
  
  
======================  
  
  
The salon was empty when Deanna got there. "Katrina?"  
  
The Enterprise's current hairdresser emerged from the back room, scissors in hand. Katrina was young, almost annoyingly so, and extremely pretty -- she of course kept her long butter-yellow hair in perfect ringlets around her face. Today she wore a brilliant sky blue casual dress that complimented her wide blue eyes.  
  
"Good morning, Commander! I see it's time for a trim. Would you also like a manicure today?"  
  
Deanna settled in to let Katrina pamper her. She enjoyed the luxury of having her wash, condition and tend to the long dark waves and curls then restoring her nails to a serviceable length and once again painting them Command red. This was a monthly ritual, and she knew the hairdresser's usual chitchat would continue sporadically throughout.  
  
Halfway through the trimming of damaged ends, Katrina surprised her. "The captain was in yesterday for a trim. What a lovely man he is."  
  
Deanna glanced at her reflection in the mirror and caught her own incredulous expression. "Lovely?"  
  
"I suppose he must be different, when you're all working and he's all business," Katrina exclaimed while combing conditioner through a section of Deanna's hair then delicately nipping ends. "He was so happy, yesterday. I had to ask -- he told me about something he's planning to do for his wife, while they're on leave next week. What a lucky woman."  
  
Deanna gripped the chair arms and gritted her teeth, grounding herself before she could instinctively react. She'd been finding herself touching the thoughts of others without intending to, having an impulse and in microseconds her newfound telepathy responded. It sometimes gave her a headache, working so hard to not read others. And Katrina's feelings were enough to tempt her, even if her words were not -- the young woman had clearly witnessed one of those rare moments when Jean-Luc relaxed and expressed some of what he usually reserved for her, in the presence of someone else.  
  
It was of course usual for hairdressers to be among those whom humans tended to relax. It wasn't anything to be jealous of -- and it wasn't as though it was really jealousy, just a slight pang of anticipation of something wrong. Deanna exhaled slowly, refocused, even checked in with Jean-Luc and sensed him in an emotional state that she interpreted to mean he was with the children, not just their own but all of those in the day care -- of course. It was story time, and he would visit once a week, if the current mission allowed. Since they were in orbit around Risa and sending crew on leave in shifts, with no mission, he was on schedule.  
  
Katrina didn't notice the change of expression. She was involving herself in her work, moving on to another section of Deanna's long hair, working behind the chair at an angle that wasn't conducive to viewing the mirror. She was clearly attracted to the captain, not that it was anything unusual, and there was no intent to even express that beyond the commentary.  
  
"Have you met her?" Katrina asked, over the clip-clip of her scissors.  
  
"The captain's wife? Of course," she said calmly.  
  
"He didn't mention her name."  
  
"Katrina, you've been aboard for only a couple of months. I suppose you've been just focusing on getting to know your clients. But I suspect at some point you'll hear about me, anyway. I'm his wife."  
  
Katrina stood back and gaped at her. "You," she whispered. Then smiled. "Oh, I'm so sorry -- I suppose I've spoiled the surprise now!"  
  
"Oh, no," Deanna said, her own smile rueful. "I'm an empath. It's very hard to surprise me. I knew he was up to something already. The nature of the plan, I'm not sure about, but it will be wonderful just the same."  
  
Katrina stared at her, probably imagining, wondering, then it was as though she realized her scissors shouldn't be idle and went back to work. She was silent for a bit.  
  
It occurred to Deanna that the confession of empathy had led to the hairdresser realizing that her feelings had been easy to read -- it was peculiar, how humans could be about this sort of thing, how they could say things and their words and tone give away so many feelings, and yet for them, knowing she sensed directly what they felt could feel like an invasion of privacy. And trying to reassure her would only make it worse.  
  
"Do you like your new job, here, Katrina?"  
  
"Oh, yes. I do! It's been so fascinating, getting to live on a starship. I was on Starbase 394 -- "  
  
Deanna listened to Katrina's enthusiastic comparison of her life before and her life now, and sensed the woman's relief that the topic had changed, and smiled at her reflection in the mirror serenely.

  
  
======================  
  
  
"Cadet," he said, demeanor changing in an instant. The captain had looked angry, at first. "We have an appointment, but I'm afraid I need to reschedule. My apologies -- I forgot to contact you, to do that." Then he took in her expression, and checked himself. "Are you all right?"

"My mother," she blurted. It wasn't what she'd intended -- Jil had intended to greet him formally, as usual, but he'd caught her off guard, responding to her expression.

"Come in, Cadet. What about your mother?"

She entered slowly, uncertain of what to expect. It had been too aggressive, asking the computer where he was when she discovered he wasn't on the bridge as usual.

"I got a message from my aunt -- my mother is ill," she said. She didn't want to cry about it, and tried to contain it.

"Have a seat."

As he was getting her a cup of tea, Commander Troi came out, pushing pins into her hair as she joined them. "Good afternoon, Cadet."

Jil stared at her -- why was the first officer in the captain's quarters, doing her hair? It shocked her. "Commander Troi!"

Jean-Luc caught her with a hand to her shoulder, before she could pop up from the chair. "As you were."

"Something is wrong?" The commander went to the replicator.

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother," the captain said, taking a seat across the table from Jil. He seemed genuinely concerned. "Where is she?"

"On Cardassia Prime. In one of the Federation medical facilities." The commander came from replicator to the table with a tray holding a tea pot, cups, sugar and cream. Something the captain had done the last few meetings -- making this drink, tea, seemed to be a ritual for him. A human ritual? Jil kept her focus on the conversation rather than on the questions she had about human cultures. "She was in one of the Dominion internment camps and became very sick while there. Some of her internal organs were damaged. She gets sick often now but this is more serious -- my aunt told me that I should come home."

The commander looked at the captain soberly, and pushed a cup and saucer toward Jil. "You are likely aware of the current mission, and where we are -- I'm so sorry that your mother is ill. But sending a shuttle on its own, in any direction, is likely to mean the loss of the shuttle with anyone aboard."

Jil looked down into her teacup and nodded slowly. Commander Troi sounded genuinely sympathetic. She liked the commander, but wasn't certain how much to reveal to her. Once or twice, the first officer had had her linger after a class and asked how she was settling in. Jil stuck with the formal polite responses and didn't complain about Carrick. Nor did she want anyone to know how bothersome some of the other people aboard had been, intermittently. She wanted to be perceived as competent, after all.

"We may be able to get a message to her," the captain said. "It can make a difference to her, knowing that you intend to be there as soon as you possibly can. How does she feel about your being in Starfleet?"

"She's a member of Cardassians for a New World Order," Jil said. "She encouraged me to join Starfleet." That was more than she'd revealed in their meetings, but she had the sense that he did care, at least.

The captain glanced at the commander. "New World Order?"

"There are several organizations attempting to shape the new government. There are a lot of arguments about what should be done, but over the past few years things have settled into conflict between those who want to return to traditions of our society before the Dominion War, and those who feel that membership in the Federation should enable us to return to more peaceful traditions that predated suspicion, aggressiveness and domination. We hope to elect leaders who are not aggressive, who can find a way to trust that the Federation is not simply helping us to control us."

"I hope that will happen," the captain said. "It's often been the case that Cardassian representatives I have met were not entirely trusting, or trustworthy. Having had centuries of the same with the Romulans, and still managing to see them join the Federation, gives me hope that we'll maintain a better relationship with the Cardassians as well."

Jil wondered -- he was speaking in the forthright manner she'd come to expect from him, and she sometimes found it suspicious that he seemed to understand things she had been taught that other humans could not. "It has been hard to be among humans, among others, because I was taught from birth not to trust anyone -- Cardassians are not always loyal to each other. It's hard for me to feel any trust in anyone other than Mother -- other than family."

"Do you have any other family other than your mother and aunt?" the commander asked. "I am in a similar situation. I have a few cousins, and my mother."

Jil wasn't sure what to make of this, from the first officer. She had come to expect officers to treat her with detachment and disinterest, throughout her experience in Starfleet -- there had been no chats about family, until she'd met with the captain.

"I only have my mother and my father's sister," she said. "My siblings are either dead or part of the movement to restore the military to power. I don't speak with any of them."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I know that family is as important to most Cardassians as it is to most humans. To me."

Jil winced.

"Cadet?"

"My father and I were very close. He insisted that you -- "

When she could not continue, the captain spoke -- and Jil had not anticipated that they would ever speak of her father at all, so the soft-spoken words so calmly put forth by the man she was starting to admire despite all that she had been told were shocking.

"He did not know anything about me, beyond what's in my record. He did not know that I was never part of a Starfleet plan to attack Cardassia, or him, or that I had no deeper agenda beyond following the orders I was given. He did not know that I do not necessarily always agree with my orders, as a person. He did not know that even though we as a people express our love for our families quite differently, humanity as a whole love their children deeply, and that I would sooner hurt myself than to hurt any child. And I expressed to him that it deeply disturbed me that you were present, as he caused pain to others, because to a human child, that would be only slightly less harmful than to cause the child direct harm. We do not teach our children to hate. We do not expose them to pain. When we are adults, with our own sense of right and wrong, we are allowed to experience whatever we wish. Not while we are too young to understand what's in front of us. The commander and I do not expose our children to most of our own crew, let alone the first contacts we make, the battles we fight, or the fullness of the pain either one of us experiences when injured in the line of duty."

She gaped at him for a few minutes. "I saw the picture of children on your desk. I thought they were -- I did not realize they were aboard."

"You believed they were grandchildren, as well, no doubt. Many do."

"You -- " She was looking directly at the commander now. The first officer was the mother of his children. "I never would have known you were -- "

"The captain and I do not allow a lot of crossover between the professional and the personal," Commander Troi said calmly. "Nor do the officers aboard this ship indulge in gossip. Lower ranks do, but I have been aware that you are not particularly close to your peers."

Jil stared at him again, thinking, her lips pursed. "I was surprised that you were willing to have me aboard your vessel. You reassured me that I would not be judged by my ancestors. But I have been anxious just the same, because I have feared that you would change your mind, if I told you that I was close to my father despite his beliefs."

"That doesn't surprise me. But being close to someone emotionally does not obligate me to agree with them, any more than they are obligated to agree with me, and you can ask my wife about that."

The commander was looking at the captain with an odd expression that Jil assumed to be tolerance. "I'm not certain but you might have heard the saying, agree to disagree. It's how humans often handle disagreements. They don't need to agree on any subject to appreciate, or like, each other. They need only agree that they don't have to fight one another, or prove each other wrong, to co-exist peacefully. For many of them, accepting the beliefs of others, even their ethics, when they are in opposition to their own, is a core principle -- it's one of the reasons the Federation exists. "

"You are not human," Jil exclaimed. Third person tense -- she'd referred to humanity as a separate thing, of which she was not part. The captain confirmed it.

"No. The commander is Betazoid."

"Oh," she said, turning her eyes to him.

"Why is that surprising?" he asked.

But she looked at the floor and said nothing.

The commander spoke, once more in a formal tone. "I'll see you in the morning, Cadet."

It was enough to jar her from her introspection and watch the commander leave the room, going into the bedroom again. "I didn't mean to offend her," Jil whispered.

"She wasn't offended. It's surprising to me that you didn't know -- she has the eyes, you know, and I'm fairly certain others talk about her."

"I don't talk to the other cadets often. Usually just about class, or Starfleet. I'm...." Jil raised her eyes, uncertain how he would react. "I'm afraid of her. Most of us are."

He raised both eyebrows at her -- an expression of surprise common to humans and Cardassians.   "Afraid? Of Commander Troi?"

"Most of us want to stay aboard. Everyone competed to be here for their first tour of duty, and now they want to stay, because it would mean having their pick of positions after spending time on the Enterprise. The commander is the one who writes recommendations."

"Ah," he said, nodding. "So you all think that I always take her recommendations. That isn't always the case. While I trust her judgment, sometimes I have a different perspective."

She stared at him, incredulous.

"The thing is, Cadet.... I do not want officers who simply do as they are told. I do not want officers who let me make all the decisions. I have no desire to be the only one on this ship who could possibly save it, go into battle, make critical diplomatic decisions -- my first officer makes decisions that I don't necessarily agree with. However -- missions are successful, and that is what matters. Right now we are here while the second officer is on the bridge. He will contact me when something happens, but until I get there, or if I cannot get there, he will be able to handle things. All of my officers will, if they are so inclined, one day be in charge of their own vessel. So it makes more sense to have people with the same loyalty to Starfleet and the Federation, and strong principles, than to have officers who will never challenge orders from me."

"Isn't that difficult? Having your subordinates question your decisions?"

"The questioning only happens when my decisions are questionable -- when they suspect that I am being influenced by personal limitations, emotions, or personal obligations. The commander questions my decisions when she thinks I'm favoring her, or anyone else."

"This is what we talked about in ethics class," Jil said. "There have been egregious examples of officers who have committed gross insubordination with the knowledge of subordinates, without being questioned. Admiral Leighton and Captain Maxwell were two of the more recent examples." It was one of those things about Starfleet that concerned her. Cardassians had a different ethic. Complete obedience could be detrimental, according to Starfleet anecdotes told by instructors. It was one of the conflicts she had difficulty resolving, at least in her own mind.

"And no doubt you know that I addressed Captain Maxwell's violation of the treaty with Cardassia. Did they mention that he was right about the Cardassians amassing arms?"

"Yes. I'm not surprised. The old government trusted no one."

The captain gazed at his cup as if it held something important. "Do you trust me?"

Jil Arran looked at him across the table, trying to maintain her composure.

"You were trained to mistrust people like us -- you don't trust the commander, because she is Betazoid. Your instinct has probably been screaming at you to go home since you came to the Academy. You remain in service but aloof from people, except for me. I suppose it's possible that you've been coming to meet with me because you believe that I was ordering you to, not inviting you. But if you truly wish to accomplish the goal of changing how your people view the Federation, you'll have to start a little closer to home. You'll have to start having real relationships with people here, on our vessel. I think that I can trust you -- I have been. So in a week, at our usual time, I'll wait for you to accept my invitation to tea, and I hope you will tell me that your mother has improved, and I hope to be able to tell you that we will be able to take you back to the Federation space, give you leave, or even deliver you home ourselves. Because you are currently a member of our crew -- and whether or not some individuals aboard would disagree, I see you all as family. And I will do my best for my family."

Her anxiety redoubled. It was sometimes difficult to believe, how he could do this. She felt at times as if she were addressing another Cardassian, but one she could not trust. She now wondered if the commander being Betazoid had been how he understood these things. But she stared, and recovered somewhat, and decided that the anxiety could be set aside, for now. "I haven't felt good about anyone," she said. "I haven't felt I could trust anyone. Counselor Davidson and I concluded what I already knew, that it's hard for so many who have likely lost parents to Cardassian conflicts in the past to trust -- "

"Consider my position. After I was assimilated by the Borg, I received a lot of angry messages."

Jil met his eyes and thought about everything. The conversations, the indirect manner in which he'd been reassuring her, the attention -- he hadn't ordered her to come, that was true. She'd known that, but supposed she could understand why he might be concerned that she had misconstrued. Or perhaps he was reminding her of the obvious. The captain wanted to know her, or perhaps wanted her to know him.

Nodding, she rose from the chair, then hesitated.

"You are dismissed, Cadet."


	2. Chapter 2

Deanna had difficulty leaving work on the ship, this time. She caught herself wandering off to thoughts of Jil -- the cadet had been on family leave for a week now, and would be for an undetermined period of time. Deanna worried about the girl, because she knew Jean-Luc had started to care about her.

"That looks promising," Jean-Luc said, jarring her back to the present. His hand touched her back -- she shifted left, into his arm, which settled across her shoulders. They were walking along a trail that led them along a grassy ridge, and ahead of them was a grove of trees. To either side were views of the sort that made one stop and stare. Plains, with a river wandering through. Rolling hills. In the distance, mountains. They were in the heart of one of the vast nature preserves that Risa maintained, and it surprised her a little that he hadn't rented horses for them instead of the long-ish walk they'd had after beaming down.

But, perhaps there was a method to his madness. The walk had been peaceful, and he'd been initially anxious but was calming as they strolled along. She sensed the mild concern, from him, and let it be. 

He gripped her arm. "In the last message, your mother reminded me that we haven't had a Betazoid ceremony yet."

That was enough to remove all thoughts of the cadet from her mind. She sighed and glanced at him. "Has she told you anything of what a House wedding ceremony would be like?"

"Of course not. That means she believes that I won't like it, I think."

"We can talk about it when we're not trying to relax," she said, as they strolled into the shade of the grove. "Something tells me it would be counterproductive."

"Since you're having difficulty not thinking about work, I thought it might be preferable."

They stopped walking, and she stepped apart from him to look him in the eye. "I'm supposed to be telepathic," she murmured, putting hands on her hips.

"You're doing what I've always done. I can see it easily enough, no assistance needed. You were always the one encouraging me to leave it behind, so you tell me how easy it is, now."

"Now that you've had vengeance on me, let's take advantage of that rock over there."

Jean-Luc dropped the bag he had slung over one shoulder on the ground in front of the rock, a sloped gray slab at a good height to use as a bench. Deanna could feel a little dampness when she sat down through the skirt of the pink and gold dress she was wearing. 

"Greg worries about you," Jean-Luc said, bending as he sat to pull a water bottle out of the bag. 

Deanna knew her smile wasn't happy -- she did it anyway, rather than start to cry. It took a few minutes to set aside some of the self-castigation and frustration, so it wouldn't bring forth a torrent of tears. 

"I am, of course, not worried at all," Jean-Luc said, continuing in his months-long campaign to do anything but make her cry. He had that silly little smile that said he was intentionally being ridiculous.

"Of course not," she said faintly, if only to demonstrate that she could talk without turning into a weeping mess.

"Is there anyone else around here, that you can tell?"

"Other than the two dozen people over there?" She pointed through the trees, at the wispy bluish-white clouds in the blue sky, visible through the leaves and branches. There was, of course, nothing but trees and grasslands in the valley below, for miles. "The ones with telescopes, pointed at us. And cameras." 

"I was just making sure. Sensors can be deceived, you know." His smile was getting bigger. From his mood, he was determined to have his way with her, something she had guessed as early as yesterday when they brought the children back from the picnic in a different meadow on a different continent. He'd mentioned after dinner that he had employed Lieutenant Kelly as babysitter-on-call, for the day, and as post-daycare sitter. And then he had awakened her early that morning and designated the dress she was wearing as the day's uniform. And, of course, he had cleared the first officer's schedule already, postponing or delegating whatever she'd scheduled to order her to take the day off.

"Mendez thinks we should attune the sensors, all the better to detect sarcasm," she said. "I thought a training would suffice, to help the senior officers learn the language of the sarcastic Picard."

"I think we're all right the way we are. Everyone needs a challenge."

Deanna sighed, and smiled at him, thinking about all the effort he'd been putting forth for so long, to keep her mood up. "You can't keep it up for the rest of my life, Jean," she said softly.

"I know. Just until you find your equilibrium. Even if it takes a while. You've done it for me, you remember."

She nodded, watching him sip from the bottle again. "But it's not the same."

He put the lid back on and dropped the bottle next to the bag. He felt, and thought, and she sensed him almost pushing it all at her, so she received it willingly, that he intended to be and do whatever it took to see her through until the twins were born and they could relax again into parents and officers, and he knew she was struggling with the transition from "just an empath" to the telepath she'd believed she would never be. It was as though she had to become a different person. Something about it was rewriting her sense of identity. And he thought about that one time, when he'd been forced into a kind of telepathic awareness of Beverly, just to remind her that he too understood that piece of things in some limited fashion. He only had to remember a vague whisper of the experience with the Borg, to remind her that identity changing experience had been a lifelong, repetitive thing for him. 

She thought about his underlying satisfaction in his so-far-successful endeavors to help her. It wasn't smugness, he reserved that for his less notable successes in surprising her in various ways, like today when he'd commandeered her choices from the moment she awoke. 

And now he was laughing silently, grinning visibly, as he thought about all the time they were saving -- thinking about things together was remarkably brief, and arguments were no longer needed. 

"I disagree," she said, answering him grin for grin. They laughed together aloud for a moment. 

"I suppose it wouldn't be prudent to fall into a habit -- as you pointed out, we will have too many communication issues with the rest of the crew. It wouldn't do to have unspoken orders turn into a court-martial and no record on the bridge recorder to fall back on."

This was a necessary conversation, she thought, and had thought so several times, but been hesitant to have it on the _Enterprise_ in any setting. And he was still paying enough attention, and they were still so connected, that he understood the thought.

"I'm having trouble with my abilities on duty," she confessed.

His expression confirmed her fears. "Edison asked me if you were all right. He noticed your expression a few times -- he had difficulty describing it but thought you appeared to be daydreaming, though he guessed that wasn't what it was. That you didn't hear him voicing the concern was more my worry. We were in the briefing room the first time he asked."

"Dr. Leral told me to expect difficulties. I know that things are improving -- I'm able to focus more, keep myself from becoming distracted when stray input wanders into my head. Especially from you, all your lack of concern."

"You're learning to block?"

Deanna nodded. "It would be easier if I had another Betazoid to practice with."

"That might be possible. There's one on the list, for us to pick up on the way to Cardassia."

"On the -- they're sending us on another delivery run?" They'd taken supplies to Cardassia twice, so far, over the past few years. Like so many other starships had. 

"Adira hinted there was somewhat more to it, this time. But we'll get to that soon enough. We have three more days here to not worry about it yet."

Deanna nodded. "So I need to stop the worrying and start being on leave now?"

That familiar old sly, affectionate smile she'd seen him wear so often was her reward. She smiled back in kind, tilting her head, and found they were leaning toward one another in one of those impulse-driven unconscious ways they often had with each other. 

"So were you intending to ravish me here, on this rock?" 

"Cygne," he exclaimed, sounding insulted, leaning the other way to scowl at her. "You imply I would be so impulsive?"

"So, not here. Some other rock? A treehouse, perhaps?"

Jean-Luc grabbed the bag up and stood, pretending to disdain such suggestions. When he finally held out a hand, she took it and stood up as well, and let him lead her farther down the trail into the trees. 

They followed the foot path into denser woods, and as they came around a particularly-massive specimen of a Risan oak with gnarled roots, a clearing came into view. There was a tent in the middle of the clearing -- not just a tent. It appeared to be several meters tall and bigger around, and she realized as they approached that it had steps. And a door.

He led her inside, and there was a wood floor, and a table and chairs. And a massive bed in the center of the room, and above it a clear dome through which one could have a clear view of the sky. A stove of the kind used to provide warmth, not to cook on, and part of the wall of the tent had been rolled up to provide a view through some less-dense part of the forest onto the valley beyond. 

"Risa," he said by way of explanation, when she looked at him with astonishment.

"Not an hourly rental, I would suppose," she said, leaning on the bed frame. It appeared to be rough-hewn wood, but she doubted that was true. "How rustic."

"Too rustic?"

Deanna climbed up -- it was a truly massive bed, an edifice -- and found herself sinking a little into the covers. Peeling back a corner of the comforter, she found two blankets and a sheet layered underneath. Velvety soft, that sheet. All of the covers were pleasant to the touch. When she turned her head to look at him again, he held up a box, smiling again with that wily, canny way that he had, when he was working on pampering her.

"Oh," she cried, crawling across the bed to reach in for a chocolate. While she chewed, she pulled off her shoes, dragged the dress off over her head, and threw herself across the bed with abandon, arms wide, legs open. 

She sensed him on the approach and slid her leg out of the way as he joined her; he tossed aside his shirt as he came, having already removed his pants, and then his hands found their favorite parts of her body. 

"Good morning," he whispered against her lips.

"I think so," she replied as she smiled and opened her teeth to admit his tongue.

Jean-Luc had good intentions, and no anxiety left whatsoever, so she set aside curiosity and indulged his leisurely kissing and fondling, letting her own hands find the back of his head. He broke away to work her hair free of the braid he'd put it in just a few hours before. 

"I didn't think so, but I'm starting to suspect you have a hair fetish," she said, watching him running some of the long, long curls through his fingers.

"Tell me something about you that I don't know," he said diffidently, winding the hair around his fingers slowly and letting it slide off again.

Deanna raised both eyebrows and slid her hands down to his chest, where she let them play with some of his chest hair. "I don't know if there's anything left."

"Of course there is."

It had been a while, since they'd played games like this. She smiled and indulged his whimsy. "I used to wish I could have helped you with those moments of humiliation, once in a while. Especially with Mother."

"Not what I expected. But thank you."

"What did you expect?"

Jean-Luc rolled off and let her come up on her side, and then reached again for her hair, bringing more of it forward over her shoulder, to fall like a curtain to the covers. He was thinking about something and it was complicated -- sexual, but with an overtone of shame and embarrassment. 

"Jean, what's wrong?" Deanna touched his face, getting his attention. His eyes refocused on her, from the distant look he'd had while ruminating about whatever he'd been thinking.

He considered her seriously for a moment. "Fairly early on, in that first year after you came aboard, I -- "

But he couldn't say it out loud. His eyes fell, and the embarrassment won. Deanna thought about the clue he'd given her, thought through some of the things she had sensed from him during that time period, and tried not to smile too much at it. 

"You indulged in some sexual fantasy about me."

He brought his hands to his face and lay on his back, groaning.

"More than once, I think. It would have to have been, to cause a problem. When it started to change how you were responding to me on duty, you probably stopped. I sensed a brief reaction one morning that I didn't expect. At that point I was not so... I suppose that could be the thing you don't know about me. My empathy wasn't always so consistently strong as all that. And I suspect now that you might have worried that I'd sensed something while you were indulging in that fantasy, however many times you did so, but I did not."

"It didn't occur to me then -- it did later, that you might have. I had to work like hell to set that worry aside. You gave me no indication that you knew anything."

"It's reassuring to me that we can still respect each other and ourselves, after all this humiliation we've been through."

He laughed, that not-amused, wry, embarrassed laugh he sometimes indulged in. "I spent some time trying to put that out of my head, before I came to you that night in Ten Forward. After I realized I was in love with you, I remembered -- it was hard to put it down again."

"The attraction, or the embarrassment?"

"What hell it was, being captain and having such a random -- "

He really was having difficulty with setting it aside. Deanna edged closer so she could touch his arm. "Preoccupation?"

He looked at her -- it was a serious look that triggered memories of missions where Will had joked, or just been flippant, and the captain had given him an incredulous, scolding glance that brought everyone to attention. She felt herself react to it now just as she had then, and had to shake it off. She was on Risa, naked, with a husband who should have been preoccupied with that situation, not some random thing he'd felt guilty about years before. 

"Why are you not laughing this off? That was a long time ago, and it isn't even so unusual. I could list quite a few other preoccupations some of your fellow officers have had over the years that came to nothing and ended in pretty much the same manner. I could perhaps list a couple of others that you -- "

The wave of dismay from him stopped her. He put his hand over his eyes again.

Deanna sat up, crossing her legs, putting her hands up to pull back her hair. "Jean-Luc, I don't understand why you even brought this up right now. Or did you intend to perhaps finally indulge in whatever fantasy you had, and surprise yourself by still feeling humiliated about it?"

"I suppose it was a little disturbing, how easily you figured out.... You're not even using telepathy. Although I suppose being a psychologist and having a ship full of humans who -- are we really all so predictable?"

She sighed, thinking about the times she'd known exactly what a man she had just met felt when he looked at her. Sometimes others, women, or aliens of other genders. Guessing what they were thinking was never hard.

"You're not even surprised," he added.

"Just about how strongly you're feeling about it now. Did you not anticipate that the old shame would be stronger than the memory of the fantasy you were trying to access?"

"Yes. I really didn't think it would be -- because it was the hair, and -- "

It was Deanna's turn to be surprised. "The fantasy had to do with my hair?"

"I had this dream," he began, finally pushing aside the old feelings -- a wholly rational thing for him to do, and that he was willing to just do that and talk through it told her volumes. So many clients over the years had found themselves talking about something they believed to be no problem, no big deal, only to channel old emotions unexpectedly. He'd recovered in moments, where others had dedicated several sessions to processing the old feelings. Deanna waited for him to continue, proud of her favorite former client. 

"An unexpected dream?" she prompted.

"It was about your hair." He rolled his head slightly toward her, looking up at her, expecting her to react to it. When she simply waited he continued. "I was in my ready room, and you came in wearing that one dress with the low neckline, the blue one, and instead of sitting down you came around the desk and leaned, and -- "

And that must have been the point where the dream turned sensual, and he'd begun to be aroused, and words failed him. The embarrassment was back.

"You could just share it with me," she said, a suggestive suggestion. 

That brought him into a sitting position. 

"I know it's not the same, sitting here naked on a bed on Risa with you. No desk, no -- "

Another glare, just out of the corner of his eye.

"Okay. I'll just wait for you to tell me about it." She stretched out on her side facing him, planting her elbow and resting her head in her hand, and started to run her fingers through her hair slowly, letting it slide through and fall forward over her chest.

"Stupid," he exclaimed, shaking his head at himself. "I shouldn't have tried to bring that up. I should have known better."

"It says something, I suppose, that you had to dig that far to find something you hadn't already told me," she murmured. When he leaned back on his elbows and looked at her, she reached over to brush his nose with the ends of her hair. 

He caught her hand, then reached for her, entangling his fingers in her hair. "The dream probably had the impact it did because of the power of the forbidden," he mused. "I truly believed at that point that I could never touch you."

"Hmmm." Deanna thought wicked thoughts about ways he'd touched her, and extended her toe to tickle the bottom of his foot.

"What a ridiculous old man I was."

"So you dreamed I came in wearing the blue dress," she said, trying not to show the irritation that he was persistently stuck on self-flagellation. "I leaned over and let my hair fall forward around my face, the ebony locks brushing your skin, while giving you a lovely view of my breasts, which were starting to fall out of the dress." She gave her right breast a squeeze, for emphasis, trying to catch his eye. "I settled in your lap and had my way with you in some exotic, Betazoid mind-capturing manner. Perhaps I murmured flattering remarks about the size of the captain's log."

That pushed the shame-laced sensuality out of the way and led to him covering his face with his hands again, flat on his back, trying not to shout, or laugh, as both impulses were fighting for expression. 

"Or perhaps I tied you up with my hair? Wrapped it around your throbbing, pulsing, erect manhood, your -- "

"Stop! Damn it!"

She pushed herself onto her hands and knees but he anticipated, so as she crawled toward him, trying to grab his penis, he rolled away, leaping to his feet on the floor, and since he was still fighting both urges but laughter was starting to get the edge, she pursued. A circuit around the room, around the bed, and he caught himself and turned on her, which sent them around again the other direction. She leaped back on the bed, her hands pulling at the covers in search of a pillow, and he caught her and started to tickle.

Shrieking, she writhed and turned and tried to grab his wrists. Somehow they started kissing again and the distraction led to his catching her wrists, and coming to rest astride her as he pinned them to the bed. And hesitated, staring down at her. What the hell was he thinking now, that he was losing the mood?

Deanna gave him a determined, angry glare and pushed with her hips, trying to throw him, and almost succeeded. He countered by coming in for anot her kiss. A rather passionate one, that stopped the fighting and led to reaching for him, with her arms and her mind, and his fingers buried themselves in her hair while he pushed into her insistently. She threw herself into an enthusiastic, angry, writhing collaboration that ended abruptly with his orgasm -- fortunately, that triggered hers, a long intense one that left her tingling and collapsed in the covers with him after the shaking and gasping was done. 

Now they were both tangled in her hair, which when loose hung down to her buttocks. He wrapped himself around her, his nose pushing against her right collarbone and his arms around her waist tightly, his legs around her thighs where he'd come to rest after rolling to her right. 

"God," he gasped.

"Did that exorcise the memory for you?" She giggled when he raised his head, and locks of her hair slid away. He blew some of it out of his face and tried to glare, but angry sex had been sufficient to put him in another plane of existence long enough to shift the mood. 

"I can make you laugh again, if you like," she said mildly. "If that's how you're going to respond every time, I plan to do it often."

"How the hell did you know about what happened in the -- " There he went again, now suspicious and angry.

"It was a guess," she exclaimed, picking up some of her hair and winding it around his neck. He complied with the pulling, not making her actually force him down to kiss her. She sensed the impulse so let go of the hair so when he pulled back again suddenly, neither of them got hurt. 

"You're saying it was so easy to guess," he exclaimed.

"Jean-Luc, there are only so many things that I could have done with hair. Settle down. It wasn't very long, at that point."

"Sorry." He relaxed again, this time pulling her to him, despite the ongoing disgruntlement. At length she sighed.

"I'll get the water."

Leaving the bed meant realizing that the temperature had dropped. As she retrieved the bottle from the bag he'd left on the table, she looked up -- clouds obscured the sky. 

"I think it's going to rain," she said, walking over to the opening in the wall. As she looked out at the trees and the view, drops were starting to fall. Jean-Luc came to stand with her and look out as the rain began in earnest.

"They said it was scheduled, but that the tent was waterproof," he said. 

"How nice, having the sound of rain," she said. "It's getting cold, though." He pointed at the bed, grinning again, and she laughed. "Or we could close this, you know."

"Or you could keep me warm," he said.

"How do you keep a straight face, sometimes," she said, grinning, turning to go back to the bed. "Teasing me about having icicles instead of toes, some nights, and then saying things like that."

"I'm sorry I... got stuck. It's a good thing you don't let my lunacy affect you. I wasn't really trying to inflict more of my own problems on you."

"You wanted it to be another in a long series of pleasant diversions, and it ambushed you. It was certainly a diversion, anyway." Deanna pulled the covers up over her legs and plumped up some of the pillows behind her.

Jean-Luc found what must have been the control, as the panel slid down into place to close the gap in the wall. He brought the box of chocolates from the table and sat next to her on the bed again, offering them to her. 

Deanna smiled fondly at him and took a piece, thinking about his unintended result and how he'd handled it without any real discomfort in telling her -- all the disturbance he'd felt had been about the feelings that had come up for him unexpectedly. 

"You're thinking too hard, now," he chided softly. 

"I was thinking that it may not been what you intended, but it was nice to see that you handled that so well. That sort of thing can happen, in therapy. I've seen people struggle with it for a lot longer, when it does. And you weren't upset that you revealed it to me."

He looked at her with quite a lot of disbelief. "I don't keep things from you, Cygne."

She winced. 

"I know there are things you can't tell me. I really don't feel a need to know everything. I simply don't have anything that I feel I need to hide from you."

"I think you know more about me than anyone," she said, reaching for him, and his hand caught hers firmly. She looked at him, finally, and saw that he was smiling fondly at her, his eyes flicking up and down. "All my flaws. Even the less obvious imperfections."

"I think I do, perhaps."

Deanna gazed at their hands, joined together and resting on the coffee-colored comforter. "I don't react when you tell me I'm beautiful because it doesn't feel true."

She sensed his reaction immediately. It wasn't exactly what she expected. She heard the sharp intake of breath that accompanied a sensation of being gut-punched. "I don't understand."

"There's a reaction that people have, to a beautiful woman. She walks in the room, and people sigh, or inhale as if they just found an exquisite piece of art, something unique and ethereal. It's different than what happens with attraction. It doesn't happen to Mother. She goes to great lengths seeking that kind of validation, and sometimes decides she is getting it, but she isn't like me. I know the difference between an appreciation of the exotic, the sensual, and the beauty of a woman who carries herself like a queen, with a fair face and -- "

His disbelief had reached epic heights. "No," he said simply, shaking his head. 

Deanna closed her eyes, and remembered -- there had been occasions, with friends. Beverly when she wore a particular dress to a reception. Chandra, when they were attending the University of Betazed. And others -- all she had to do was accompany one of Will Riker's away missions, anywhere. It was, of course, a subjective thing, and Will's taste had been broad enough. 

Jean-Luc had a different sensibility; his tastes, his attractions, ran to compatibility in less tangible assets. He had a sensual nature and there was no doubt whatsoever that he found her more attractive than many. He had not, in the years they had been together, had more than a passing appreciation of another woman and felt uncomfortable if she made it obvious that she noticed his reaction. 

"I'm not saying that I am not beautiful. I know that I have never caused that reaction in others. You react to me. You see me as beautiful -- I know that you do, and I don't know how to express to you what that truly means to me. I'm not used to it."

Jean-Luc was staring at her now as if he'd experienced an epiphany -- something that happened on missions, at times, but also once or twice when they were talking like this. "That night, when we were dealing with the Vrivians. This had something to do with it. You were so... uncertain."

"I was feeling uncertain, and there was an unconscious reaction that I had -- it wasn't about this, but I can see why you would think so." She raised her eyes to meet his. "It seems to you that I am being insecure. It's a typical thing to have an insecurity about appearance, for a human. I'm trying to explain to you that I sense reactions to me, and I can tell you that it hasn't been -- "

"You told me that you misinterpreted what you've sensed before. You've said that sometimes -- "

"This isn't one of those things, Jean. It's like the difference between Earl Grey and English Breakfast, the reactions that I'm talking about are that different. I am as I am, and it makes me feel wonderful that you appreciate me so much."

It didn't surprise her that he felt defensive on her behalf, that he was struggling with it. It surprised her that he went on into a confused tangle of anger and clung to her hand as if it kept him calm. She ate more of the chocolates and glanced at him a few times, waiting for him to calm, and he wandered in intense thought for some time. He transitioned to an unsettled, strangely-sharp sadness. Then a little hope. 

"You went with me to the Admiralty Ball, the year Yves was born," he said.

"Yes. I remember that."

"But...."

"The reactions to me were fairly consistent, as they always have been. That's not what I'm talking about. Want me to just share it with you?"

"Yes."

It wasn't difficult to share it with him, where it had been difficult before. It was much more direct -- the sensation was, he agreed, different in the same way that teas could be. He continued to stare at her, then pulled her into his arms and held her as if seeking reassurance. She realized it at last. Something had shaken him, and of all things, it had been that he believed she did not agree with him that she was beautiful. 

"Jean-Luc," she said, sighing. "I'm not saying that I don't believe that I'm beautiful. I simply feel -- "

"It's wrong," he exclaimed. "How are you able to feel, to say, that -- it's not going to be the same, from one man to the next. Not everyone feels the same way about the same -- it's one of the things about great art that makes it great, that it can inspire strong feelings of various kinds in different people, but it's always intense emotion. It's not that it's always the same. You have to know -- you must see -- "

"I have a very good memory," she whispered. "As I said. I know how people react to me. I can't feel that peculiar narcissism that so many humans seem to be capable of, that overrides how they perceive that others see them. I see myself, I know that I am not unpleasant to look at or unattractive, but there is a pattern, observable to my eye, in the type of women who consistently inspire that reaction in others. Men, mostly. You're right that it is subjective. But I know that the attraction that I tend to inspire has a different quality."

"No."

"You aren't understanding that this is simply the way it is. Humans are good at optimism, changing the way they think about things -- Betazoids see and accept things. It doesn't hurt me to know how people react to me."

It wasn't often that she witnessed her husband feeling this helpless sort of failure. Handling Amy's sensory issues had often left him in a similar state of despair, despite the hope that they would see an end to it. And they had reached that end for Amy, for the most part. His arms tightened. He didn't like what he'd been told.

For a while, she leaned against him and loved him for being this way. If he didn't feel so much for her, he wouldn't suffer this way on her behalf when she told him such things. 

"So how long are we staying today?" She hadn't seen anything that looked like a replicator, or food. 

"Tomorrow morning." His voice sounded tight, but not unduly distressed.

"Really?" Deanna chewed another chocolate slowly, thinking about how long it would take for being idle to become bothersome to him. There weren't so many things to discuss at length, any more, and she was sure that a full day was well beyond the limit for either of them, in terms of endurance in love play. And he hadn't packed a game, or books. 

"You sound surprised." Jean-Luc almost sounded normal, again. 

"You'd better have plenty of chocolate," she said, picking out another truffle.

"We'll have plenty of anything we like. Someone's beaming down lunch any time now."

She stared at him.

"You expected me to plan a day with you without creature comforts?" he exclaimed. "This is leave, not a survival scenario. I know you don't like camping."

"You are the most horrible man I've ever met," she said, grinning. "I can't imagine loving you any more than do at this moment." Her eyes fluttered shut, as she considered all they had talked about. She couldn't stop tears, felt guilty again for even bringing it up. 

"Deanna," he breathed, pulling her close again. 

"I shouldn't have said anything. It wasn't something that I really think about at all, just something that I've never told... anyone. I didn't intend you to feel...."

"I think you may have the distinction of being more masochistic than I am," he said with sudden, unexpected dark humor. His chin felt heavy against her head, and she felt his fingers combing gently through her hair. "How's your back?"

An old injury in her lower back occasionally acted up, and it was starting to; he must have detected it. Another sign of how things were changing. "A little sore."

"Would the hot spring help?"

Deanna sat up and gave him a bemused look. He got up, went to the wall of the tent behind the bed, and pushed through what she'd thought to be a wall hanging. When she followed she found that the next room featured a large pool set into the wood decking. A steaming, bubbling pool, that Jean-Luc was walking down into.

"You knew this was here and didn't tell me? Horrible," she exclaimed, following him and falling in the last few feet. He caught her in his arms and chuckled. He knew her fondness for hot soaks and natural settings.

"I told you, I have plenty of surprises."

 


	3. Chapter 3

  
  
Jil returned from the market to a quiet house. She took the groceries to the kitchen and began to prepare the stew from memory of watching her mother cook each evening, helping her by cutting up the vegetables when she was old enough.  
  
The house was old, but not one of those her family had owned. She wasn't certain how her aunt had come by the small house on the edge of Kamal, one of the major cities on Cardassia Prime. It was a long walk to the Starfleet base hospital from the house but she would make it again today as she had each day since arriving.  
  
"I will go with you," her aunt said as she came into the kitchen behind her.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"You are staying?"  
  
Jil knew it would come to this conversation. She'd been surprised that her aunt had been silent on the old bone of contention this long. "I am staying until Mother is better, or until I have seen to her funeral. I am returning to my career after. Mother would want nothing else."  
  
She could almost feel her aunt's stare on her back but continued to wash ingredients in the sink.  
  
"Jil Orra," her aunt scolded. "Your father -- "  
  
"My father is dead," she exclaimed, frustrated that even though she sounded calm there was still a tightness in her voice that gave away her anger.  
  
"Only as long as you want to pretend he is."  
  
Jil turned from the sink, shutting off the water, and came to lean on the counter between them. Her aunt had settled at the table and watched her without expression.  
  
"I love my father, but he does not love me. The father who loves me is dead." Jil turned  back to her stew.  
  
"He was angry."  
  
"No doubt he still would be, but I would expect that. I am certain he would be angry again if he saw me in uniform."  
  
"You could wear something else when you see him."  
  
"I am a Starfleet cadet." Jil picked up the bigger knife to hack at the rind of the krintar. "I worked hard to earn the uniform. I'm proud of my accomplishment. So is Mother."  
  
"Jil -- "  
  
"If you are going to continue to speak of impossibilities, I can find another place to stay."  
  
Her aunt fell silent, and she chopped and diced and gradually filled the bowl on her left. She would need to hurry to make it to the hospital before dinner.  
  
==============  
  
  
"It's been less difficult, over the past few weeks," Deanna said.  
  
Ben nodded and flicked his eyes up from his desk. "Are you still having difficulty sleeping the night through?"  
  
"That's improved as well. I think the times I've awakened in the past week were more because I sensed some strong emotions from someone else, and it was enough to disrupt my sleep." She paused and inhaled, refocusing, blanking her mind again. The ongoing concern and the sudden worry from Davidson combined and it was like the emotions were being pushed at her -- he'd no doubt realized once more that she was able to sense emotions from across the ship, and her telepathy was apparently equal in this way, and perhaps he had done something he felt to be private in the comfort of his quarters that he would be embarrassed for her to have detected.  
  
She almost reassured him, that she hadn't sensed anything identifiable as him or that she wouldn't continue to eavesdrop if she ever did, but refrained.  
  
"It's not been a problem, though. I use such incidents as an opportunity to practice blocking. At some point I hope to reach a place that I can set a block in place and be isolated from the thoughts and feelings of others without working to do it. It would be so nice to be able to focus entirely on tasks again."  
  
The backhanded reassurance worked. Davidson relaxed and smiled at her, once again the counselor she'd known for years. "I'm glad you're managing it better."  
  
"It's taking tension out of the staff meetings, finally, that I can focus more."  
  
"The captain does seem more relaxed. Though I suspected that might be all the leave you two have taken," Davidson said, his smile gaining a hint of slyness.  
  
"I need to get going. Thanks, Ben."  
  
"See you next week."  
  
She left the counselor's office and strode to the lift. While riding down to deck eight, she checked in with her children, sensing that all was normal -- Amy was a bit upset, and Yves was focused and content -- and then thought about Jean-Luc. It was usually enough to make her aware of how he felt without making him aware she was doing it, something she tried not to do so as not to disrupt his day. The turmoil she sensed was enough to make her wonder how she hadn't sensed it even though she'd been practicing an ongoing mental shield for the past hour or so.  
  
"Computer, halt turbolift."  
  
Deanna leaned against the wall of the lift and refocused with a force of will, calming herself, setting up a block intentionally, before she thought about the emotions that Jean-Luc was feeling. He had intended to meet with some of the Starfleet personnel coming aboard; they were in orbit around Kalaris Four, picking up medical personnel and a few lieutenants and lieutenant-commanders bound for postings on Cardassia Prime at the newly-established starbase there. The rest of what they were supposed to deliver was cargo -- medical supplies, agricultural supplies, replicators, components for the creation of another solar power generation plant.  
  
Jean-Luc was in his ready room, not where she would anticipate him to be. He was supposed to take the visiting officers to Ten Forward, for an informal gathering to orient everyone to each other. This was, after all, not really a mission -- they wouldn't be working together, simply taking fellow officers to Cardassia for deployment. From the intensity of the frustration he was alone. She knew what he felt like when setting aside feelings and talking to others. There was a strange amount of guilt and anxiety mixed in.  
  
"Computer, resume, new destination -- the bridge."  
  
She gave Edison and the two ensigns minding the bridge a smile, as she strolled through calmly and touched the panel next to the ready room door. When she was admitted she saw at once that he knew it was her -- he watched her come and sit across the desk from him calmly.  
  
"I was on my way to change, and head for Ten Forward, but I thought I would come see how you are doing."  
  
The woe and embarrassment on his face as he tried to smile at her was almost painful to watch. He gave up and covered his face with his hands, elbows on his desk. Deanna realized that for the first time in years, he wasn't able to contain it, whatever it was. The rational and composed captain had been reduced to hiding in his ready room.  
  
It wasn't someone he knew -- no old flame come back to haunt him. It wasn't an old enemy. She knew what that would feel like. This was something else, and her best guess was an unexpected, intense attraction to someone. But that made no sense, as he'd felt attractions before, and then proceeded to ignore them and function with a tolerable discomfort.  
  
She sat watching him while he tried in vain to recover from this overwhelming guilt, frustration, helplessness -- it had increased when she arrived, she realized, and it became obvious that she would need to do something to break the tension.  
  
"What do you think I should wear?"  
  
She expected him to grab it and run with it, chide her that she should wear what she wanted, or suggest one of his favorite dresses so he could enjoy surreptitiously watching her walk around the room. Not that he would say that much, but she knew he did watch her at times.  
  
"Jean-Luc?"  
  
Finally he sat back in his chair and let his arms fall to the arm rests on his chair, and stared at the monitor on the desk. "Commander," he began.  
  
The intensity of the frustration was diminishing, but obviously he was still overwhelmed to the point that he resorted to rank. "Captain," she responded evenly.  
  
"Please see to the personnel we are transporting."  
  
"Of course, sir." Deanna waited, wondering if she should simply ask.  
  
"I won't be able to make it to Ten Forward. Please pass along my regrets." That caused a spike in anxiety -- he either had something critically urgent on his monitor on the desk, or something, someone, in Ten Forward was the cause of all of this.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Thank you. That will be all."  
  
Deanna rose and left, despite the deep concern she felt, and went to their quarters. Thinking and still monitoring his feelings, she even opened herself more to the point that she knew he could detect her through the bond, and could likely feel her worry if he paid attention. She went into the bedroom, also aware that Natalia had picked up Amy and Yves from school, and that they were heading for a holodeck -- she could tell where people were now with even more accuracy than before. The kids would be fine.  
  
She considered whether to go in uniform. Jean-Luc was still very upset but calming at last; that she hadn't reacted to the things he knew she sensed had been reassuring, apparently. She sensed that he was thinking again, rather than feeling overwhelmed -- it was a little like the way Yves felt to her when he was trying to do one of his puzzles. Suspecting that he might change his mind about going to Ten Forward, because she knew he wouldn't like being driven away from it by emotions, she took two dresses out of the closet. But she put them back. Perhaps something new was called for.  
  
In the living room, she sat at his desk, and went through the options available in the computer's massive library of off-duty clothing, asking it to filter things by hem length, sleeveless, material -- she decided a light silk, something just on the verge of being sheer but not transparent at all -- and the sort of pink that reminded her of opal, with a sheen but with no overtones of white, purple or other colors that could be present in opalescent material. Something delicate. She filtered out loosely-draped outfits and pantsuits, anything with metal on it, anything with lace, eliminated low necklines or plunging backs that showed too much below the bra.  
  
The final choice was a form-fitting, knee-length dress that had a long swath of material attached on the left front of the dress, to be gathered across the chest and draped over the shoulder. The end of the drape would fall in the small of the back. The result materialized in the replicator as she sensed him leaving the bridge, and while she stood in front of the full-length mirror on the closet door fiddling with the way the drape fell down her back, Jean-Luc came home.  
  
Deanna sidled to the dressing table and sat down to sort through the jewel box for her swan necklace and some earrings that matched. While she was putting the simple gold rings in her ear lobes, he entered the bedroom. She picked up the brush and his feelings washed over her -- he was completely surprised.  
  
"Jean?" She turned to look at him, starting to pull her unruly hair back away from her face -- the hormones of the Phase and pregnancy had resulted in a ridiculous amount of growth and an increase in thickness, and when it was down, unrestrained, it felt heavy. Jean-Luc stood in the door staring at her. The way he felt in turn shocked her. Putting down the brush, letting her hair fall, she stood up and took a step toward him.  
  
He blinked, then began to smile, holding out his arms and closing the distance between them, catching her hands in his gently.  
  
"I guess you like it," she said, giving him a smile in return.  
  
"You are the most beautiful woman I've met today," he said, another wave of warmth and awe washing over her again and resonating with the odd, deliberately-worded statement. Pride, love -- it was as if everything he'd been tangled up in just twenty minutes before had never existed. And then he was kissing her as if he'd just come home after months of absence. The bond rose around them and her ears burned. She lost track of time, and space, and the floor -- she floated and soared and it was something more than a kiss usually brought them to, almost as if they were at orgasm, but she knew neither one of them was so aroused in that way.  
  
When he let go, and they stepped apart, it startled her how shaky she felt -- he caught her shoulder as she stumbled a little. "Dizzy," she blurted, breathless. "What you do to me."  
  
And then she was caught against his chest before she could really look at his face, and had to wait for him to calm down again. Her face was wet with tears, she realized. It had to be joy, since that was what she felt.  
  
At long last, his arms loosened, and she stepped back. He was calm, at last, and no frustration or rapture, just happiness. "Jean-Luc?"  
  
"I'm going to change into another uniform, I think," he said, sounding like himself again. "This one is wrinkled, for some reason." A little of the anxiety was returning. But he remained happy, just the same, as he went about the task he'd set for himself -- he kept glancing at her and the happiness spiked some each time, and when she started to braid her hair while seated at the dressing table, he came over to help.  
  
She was tempted to tell him, as she'd been so often, that he didn't need to keep doing her hair. Sometimes she even felt a little silly about it -- that he kept at it even though it had been the result of some idle banter months ago seemed odd, at times. But at the moment having his hands in play really did help, because her hair was an unwieldy mess -- there was so much of it that she had been on the verge of having it cut back and thinned out.  
  
He stood back after putting a French braid over her head and slanting down, stopping as he reached her left ear and fastening it with one of the heavier clips to hold the thick bundle. Reached over her shoulder for the brush, he proceeded to brush out the loose tresses until the mass of curls fell in some sort of order down her back, while the loose material of the dress cascaded down the right side.  
  
She found the pale gold sandals she'd had in mind in the back of the closet while he put on a uniform jacket. They left their quarters at a leisurely pace, and she was surprised that he kept his hand in the small of her back on the walk between the lift and Ten Forward, as was Dr. Mengis, who arrived from the other direction and raised eyebrows at them.  
  
"What a lovely dress," he commented.  
  
"Thank you," Deanna said warmly, though she sensed that he had lied -- sidestepped, rather, from what he'd wanted to say, judging from the actual feelings of attraction emanating from him. The doctor had been attracted to her all along, since he'd come aboard, and it was no surprise at all to her, nor did she think he was oblivious to the fact that she'd always sensed it. They simply never spoke of it, and wouldn't, and so the doctor had long ago stopped worrying and felt as he did without expressing it.    
  
The rest of the senior staff, except for Natalia, were already there, as were the officers being transported and a handful of random off duty crew. Jean-Luc dropped his hand as she came through the door first, and followed closely behind her into the room. People were turning with friendly smiles and it started -- the reactions of surprise, admiration, even attraction, pinged against her empathy and nothing unexpected happened, so she kept a warm smile in place and continued into the room without hesitation.  
  
"Commander," Mendez exclaimed, taking a few steps from a couple of people he'd been standing with, "this is Lieutenant-Commander Ceralia Baines, and Lieutenant Monica Seward."  
  
Deanna extended a hand -- the woman, Ceralia, in the jade green dress smiled and did the same, shaking hands, and simultaneously she sensed a jolt of anxiety from Jean-Luc, and as she nodded and turned to shake the hand of the other woman, she started to build up a block that would keep her isolated from the emotions of others as much as she could manage. Because as she was introduced to another lieutenant by Mendez, the self-appointed host for the moment, she heard Ceralia speak to Jean-Luc, calling him by rank formally but using a warm tone backed by such interest and attraction -- it raised the hairs on the back of Deanna's neck, and it took effort to keep a polite smile in place and not react to it.  
  
She spoke politely to the officers -- there were six of them, and all of them were friendly and found her interesting on varying levels. And then she excused herself to the bar, where Guinan got her the glass of ebi'lan tea she asked for, and gave her a loaded look that she paused to return. It wasn't precisely like telepathy, with Guinan, but she understood. Without having it requested the hostess then provided a cup of hot tea, that smelled of bergamot, and Deanna smiled and thanked her, and carried the steaming cup of Earl Grey over to her husband.  
  
Jean-Luc was talking to a handful of people -- Mendez, Seward, a young lieutenant named Blaine Carmichael, and the lovely Ceralia who appeared enraptured by the captain's commentary on the state of Cardassia and how he hoped the recovery would mean increased trust on the parts of the Cardassians and the older officers of Starfleet who were still suspicious -- and Deanna sidled up to slip the tea into his hand, which came up to receive it without so much as a glance at her. She sipped her own tea, glanced around the room, ignored the admiration from Mendez and Carmichael, and wandered to the left, strolling behind Jean-Luc toward where Ben Davidson and a couple of others in uniform were talking. But the three officers were obviously deep in serious conversation, about counseling technique, she realized from some of the terms she heard, so she turned and came back to Jean-Luc's side on the right, sipping again, casually slipping her hand through his elbow as he spoke. When she finished drinking she looked at his face as if interested in his opinions, which he'd already shared with her when they'd gotten the orders to return to Cardassia.  
  
As usual, in the course of conversation, people shifted and groups changed -- Mendez went to the bar, Carmichael asked about some old mission he'd read about because what else would he do when presented with the opportunity to speak to Captain Picard, and Monica Seward asked questions about that mission as well. Ceralia left, at some point. Deanna remained focused on the conversation until she reached the bottom of her glass, and noting that Jean-Luc's had emptied as well, she took it from him without interrupting his explanation about the wiles of Romulan commanders of days past, and took both glasses to the bar.  
  
She took a seat on a stool and waited for Guinan to return from the other end of the room, where the hostess was talking while putting a drink in front of someone. It was nice to have a break from trying to follow conversation about things she already knew.  
  
"Commander Troi?"  
  
Deanna was just considering a gradual release of the blocking she'd been maintaining, and felt a little relief that she hadn't yet. She turned to look at Ceralia. "Yes?"  
  
The woman smiled at her. This was, Deanna realized, the first person she had ever met  who reminded her of a doll -- she had fine, chiseled features, perfect translucent white skin, clear green eyes, a cloud of perfectly-arranged blond ringlets around her face -- the green dress might have been painted on. They were about the same height, she realized.  
  
"Ray was telling us earlier that you have been aboard since the captain was given command of the previous Enterprise," she said. Her voice still had a warmth to it, though she was less interested than before.  
  
"Mr. Mendez has been aboard for a while himself. We'll be sorry to see him go, when he gets the promotion he deserves," Deanna said. "He intends to move on to another vessel, when I return from my maternity leave."  
  
It stunned the woman wide-eyed, and neatly stopped a line of conversation Deanna didn't intend to indulge. Ceralia glanced over at the captain, still talking to the same small group. When her eyes came back to Deanna they wandered down to Deanna's hands, laying idle on the bar, perhaps noting the ring Jean-Luc had gotten for her years before. Perhaps she had noticed his ring, which matched Deanna's -- but if she had it hadn't dissuaded her. 

Ceralia smiled pleasantly, without mirth. "I suppose congratulations are in order?"  
  
"Thank you. We're looking forward to it -- Yves and Amy will enjoy having another sibling."  
  
This time, her surprise was less pronounced, less noticeable. Her mouth tightened. "How long have you been married?"  
  
Deanna answered a few questions, volunteering more information than requested casually, until Guinan returned and she could request more tea.  
  
"I'll have some Earl Grey as well, this time," she added while watching her pour a refill for Jean-Luc.  
  
"Not your usual," Guinan commented.  
  
"Add a little sweetener to mine, if you would. It is rather strong."  
  
She thanked Guinan and turned to find Ceralia had drifted away with Edison, the two of them strolling toward a table where Mengis sat with a doctor who must have come aboard with the rest of the officers bound for Cardassia.  
  
Deanna brought the hot tea across to Jean-Luc and put it in front of him -- he and the others had finally taken a table. He pulled out the chair next to him slightly, and she spun about to sit next to him, raising her tea to test whether it had cooled enough in transit. Despite the block she was maintaining, she felt a surge of pleasure from him, as if the look he shot her way weren't enough to tell her he was pleased, and settled back in the chair to rejoin the conversation.  
  
As it approached the hour at which they normally had dinner, Jean-Luc excused himself -- three slowly-sipped cups of tea, several changes of group members and several topic changes later. Deanna returned their cups to the bar and followed him from Ten Forward. Alone together in the lift, she leaned against him, sensing a general sense of well-being from him. She'd relaxed her mental block over time, as it became clear that whatever had been going on between him and the woman had subsided.  
  
"I think that you have not lost your appeal," she murmured.  
  
He groaned, and slid an arm around her. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.  
  
"For being a functional male human? For being attractive? Nothing there that's a real problem to me."  
  
"I didn't catch myself early enough."  
  
"I think I would have sensed something well before you were in bed with her," Deanna commented blandly, looking at his face. "Did you dose my coffee with inhibitor this morning?"  
  
He snorted, rolling his eyes, wanting to grumble and settling for a glare.  
  
"You never express any jealousy when I flirt with Beverly," she said. A reversal, since it was Tom who flirted with her, and she sometimes flirted back. But it hopefully reminded him of times each of them indulged in harmless flirting with others.  
  
Both his eyebrows climbed and the glare turned to a blink and a stare. She stared back at him, keeping her face as neutral as she could.  
  
"Ceralia is an archeologist, isn't she? I seem to remember reading that on the manifest and thinking that you might enjoy discussing that with her. It's been a long time since you've done anything in that field, perhaps we can stay for a few days and visit the site she's headed for on Cardassia, see the ruins and -- "  
  
"No," he said firmly.  
  
Deanna frowned at him. "Why not?"  
  
He took a deep, slow breath, and his arm tightened around her.  
  
"All right. I know how difficult it was, earlier. I won't tease."  
  
"Thank you." He thought intensely for a moment. "I think I'm going to have a new habit, from now on."  
  
"Really? What's that?"  
  
"It shouldn't be too difficult to brag about my wife with everyone I meet."  
  
She giggled at him, shaking her head. "Or just the attractive flirty people you meet? Perhaps you could simply introduce me to them, or show them a picture."  
  
"Hmm, yes, I think a picture with this dress on. I'll need one to frame for the ready room."  
  
"Horrible, terrible man."  
  
The lift left them on deck eight near their door, and as she started to reach for the clasp on the shoulder of the dress, he caught her hand. "Jean-Luc?"  
  
"Leave it on, please."  
  
"I was going to change into something more suitable for playing with the kids."  
  
He sidled closer, bringing her hand to his own shoulder. "No."  
  
"I suppose this means I should keep the dress?" She smiled as she felt his lips on her neck. "I still don't really know why you were apologizing."  
  
He sighed, which she felt rather than heard, as his breath tickled her skin. "I thought I was having an interesting conversation. I realized what it really was when I noticed the look on Guinan's face. I should have realized sooner."  
  
"What did you do, once you understood what it was?"  
  
"I excused myself, of course."  
  
Deanna backed away and looked him in the eye. "And hid in the ready room to have a meltdown about doing nothing wrong."  
  
He shook his head, his chin coming up slightly in defiance.  
  
"Do you understand how unusual it is for you to react that way, when other men wouldn't start to feel guilty until the woman was actually in their arms kissing them?" Or even until much later on, she thought, but the point had been made.  
  
"I am not other men, and you are not some other woman -- I never expected -- "  
  
She waited, but he had lost the ability to speak, again, caught up in frustration now, rather than guilt and anxiety. She thought about how encouraging and positive he had been over the past months, and how often she had been so depressed, so anxious, and how patiently he waited and hoped. Having a depressed spouse had been a stressor on so many relationships -- she had counseled people with traumatized or depressed spouses, and seen some of those relationships end. Some of her recent anxiety had been worry that her difficulties would have an impact on her marriage. She frowned at herself for starting to cry. What a wonderful husband she had, and how little reason she'd given him to be that way, lately.  
  
Of course, he noticed. Of course, he had her in his arms immediately, being patient, focusing on her. Her arms went around him and she found herself bereft of anything to say. There were no words left to help her distract, deflect or diffuse, or to express how much it affected her that he mistook her tears for sadness. So she sighed, relaxed into his arms, relaxed the tiring level of restraint she had to exert to keep it all out of her mind, and settled into the bond without hesitation.  
  
When he realized she felt guilty, for being depressed and sporadically unavailable emotionally or sexually, he spent a moment or two being outraged at her on her behalf, which was a little confusing, but he was ultimately unable to sustain the anger when he noticed she was also thinking about leaving the kids with Natalia. She giggled at him. How quickly things changed, when the possibility of more pleasant activities came up.  
  
"How does this dress come off?" he murmured, fingering the hem speculatively.  
  
"I thought you wanted a picture."  
  
"Yes, but we can do that later. Right before I take up painting again."  
  
She let him guide her into the bedroom. He was feeling that sense of awe, and it reminded her of their conversation on Risa last week. She almost started to cry again. She knew there was no way he could have conjured such feelings on demand. He didn't remember the conversation, either, or surely he would have brought it up to prove he'd been right. Not that it did, but he would have tried. 

"I underestimated how bored you were with my wardrobe, obviously."  
  
After some dress removal lessons, which could have been mistaken for foreplay, she sat on the bed and waited while he went to the bathroom for a moment. Sitting quietly led to the realization that she was almost falling asleep sitting up. Her head started to throb, just above her eyes. She also realized that she wasn't blocking, but still sensed very little. When he came back, peeling jacket and shirt off as he came, he looked at her and hesitated.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
"It seems that I'm finally able to block out emotions, where I couldn't really before the Phase," she said, looking up at him apologetically. "The problem with that appears to be that it's exhausting to do it. I was able to completely wall out everything, while we were in Ten Forward. I tried so hard because I really didn't want to do anything that would bring any attention to you, or her. And now I have a headache, and I can't sense anything."  
  
"You overworked yourself. Lie down. I'll get the massage oil."  
  
He left the bedroom. Deanna unhooked her bra, trying not to cry again at how fortunate she was, having a husband who was oblivious in such wonderful ways.


	4. Chapter 4

  
Jil carried her bag with the sealed container of stew across the base. Her uniform and retinal scan had gotten her in, and once on the property she felt at ease again.  
  
Disturbingly, things had changed since her departure for the Academy three years before. The stares, the way people acted -- the recommendation not to be out at night.  Jil found it all very upsetting. She didn't remember such things being the case even while the Dominion was in control. After the attack, after the Founders ordered the destruction of her people, everyone had clung to each other, trying to survive. It was supposed to be improving. Things were supposed to be getting better!  
  
The hospital was clean and orderly, quite a contrast to the city outside the starbase. The staff gave her faint smiles that she now interpreted differently -- after the leers, glares and anger from her people each day as she walked to see her mother, those expressions seemed affectionate by comparison.  
  
Her mother was one of three women in the room, and Mother clearly enjoyed the company. As Jil came in, she saw her mother smile at the older woman in the bed on her left. They were chatting about favorite recipes, of course. When they noticed Jil both of them smiled.  
  
"I brought the stew," Jil said, smiling at her mother. "How do you feel today?"  
  
"My girl," Mother said, holding out her arms. Jil leaned in to hug her as well as she could without shifting her posture in the bed. The cracked ribs could cause great pain if Mother tried to move too much.  
  
Jil gave each of the three ladies a bowl of stew before sitting in the chair at Mother's side with one for herself, and settled in for a long chat with them. Mother's roommates were alert enough to be entertaining for her, at least. One had a lung infection and the other a heart problem that would soon be remedied with surgery.  
  
This felt more like home than her aunt's house. She glanced out the window at a four-story white building, built to the same plans as many of the buildings at the Academy, and turned back to listen to Tela start describing her daughter's school experiences. Jil knew she would have to get back to the house before dark, or she would face whatever dangers lurked in the streets.  
  
===============  
  
Deanna emerged from the water and gasped for air, her hands grasping the rails. She hauled herself up to the edge of the pool and gathered her ropy wet hair over her right shoulder to squeeze out as much of the water as she could.  
  
"Computer, end program."  
  
The holographic pool, and all the water from it, vanished. She started to get dressed, and once her uniform was restored to regulation order began the task of doing her now-dry hair. Fifteen minutes later she was on her way to Ten Forward.  
  
Her routine was now half an hour of stretching, an hour and a half of martial arts class with her students, and another half an hour of swimming in the gym's pool. That she could lock the door to the pool was, so far as she was concerned, one of the privileges of rank. It meant she could forgo a swimming suit without exposing herself to all and sundry.  
  
Since the twins had been removed, she had returned to exercise with a vengeance. It was one of the few times she could relax most of the mental discipline it now took to manage getting through the day without feeling overwhelmed. Working the body hard was enough to maintain stimulus sufficient to keep herself focused on anything but emotions or thoughts floating all around her freely. She had been consulting with a colleague on Betazed via subspace enough to know that her situation wasn't ideal. She should be, by her colleague's advice and what she already knew to be true, back at home, surrounded by other Betazoids, getting support and coaching in an environment where everyone knew how to keep their thoughts to themselves.  
  
That just wasn't reasonable, however, so rather than force Jean-Luc to take a leave of absence with her and move the children, incubator and all, back to Betazed, she was determined to make it work as best she could.  
  
Ten Forward was not busy mid-morning so she easily found a table at a viewport, with the red-shifted stars at warp in front of her. Tina, one of Guinan's helpers, brought her the usual pot of green tea and a short stack of cups.  
  
She had just settled into a light meditation when movement on her left caught her attention. She turned and found Ceralia, in uniform, turning to walk the other way.  
  
"Commander Baines?"  
  
Her soft call was easily heard in the quiet -- Ceralia came back, slowly, her disbelief plain. "I wasn't sure...."  
  
"Please, sit down. Would you like some green tea?"  
  
A subdued smile, and she sat down and watched Deanna pour her a cup. "I'm so sorry about -- "  
  
"Really, if you have to apologize to me for confirming my husband is attractive, I'm not sure we're going to get along at all."  
  
Light laughter, at the unexpected good-natured chide -- Deanna smiled, seeing exactly why Jean-Luc would have found her captivating. Ceralia had a carefree and easy manner, in addition to her intelligence and beauty. "I suppose being the jealous type would be counter-productive for you, wouldn't it?"  
  
"It would. I'm actually disappointed that you've managed to frighten him away -- he's so fascinated by archeology, and he has so little opportunity to indulge in it."  
  
Ceralia's brow creased. "Frighten? Surely not."  
  
"Well, he did most of that to himself. He managed to not catch himself in time to advertise his monogamy."  
  
Ceralia sipped a little tea, and it was tempting, to just peek -- she had a thoughtful, almost puzzled, expression that made Deanna wonder what she was thinking about. There was an interesting combination of feelings behind it that led her to suspect that Ceralia might also be finding her attractive, as well.  
  
"You're going to excavate some of the ruins on Cardassia, then?" Deanna asked.  
  
"Oh, yes, there are so many as-yet unexplored ruins -- the Cardassians didn't do very much of that sort of work. There's a theory around Starfleet Command that helping them delve into their history might encourage a return to their philosophical roots, so to speak. They were once such an artistic, peaceful people, before their society took a militaristic turn."  
  
This, too, was familiar ground for Deanna. She let the conversation develop, asking semi-informed questions, until Ceralia had begun to almost lecture on some of the specific things that had been uncovered so far, by colleagues who were already at the dig -- the names she mentioned were already familiar to Deanna because Jean-Luc had mentioned them before as well.  
  
Suddenly Ceralia stared at her, wide-eyed, her mouth open slightly. A bright smile blossomed, lighting her eyes. "Oh," she exclaimed.  
  
Deanna kept her smile in place. "What?"  
  
"You've heard this already -- you're not interested in archeology, are you? Does he do this, tell you all about these projects? Because he knows quite a lot more about it than I do, yet, and you seem to know more than I would expect a first officer to, frankly."  
  
"It does sound rather familiar, now that you mention it."  
  
Ceralia appeared to be reading whatever bits of tea leaves might be at the bottom of her cup. "What about you?"  
  
"What about...."  
  
"Are you monogamous?" The green eyes swept up to meet Deanna's, and the diffuse mixture of interest and attraction became quite a bit more focused.  
  
Deanna studied the woman calmly. It wasn't an unusual question, for a Betazoid. She'd been asked many times over the years. Usually the answer had depended on the nature of the person asking it.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Ceralia's smile turned regretful. "Well."  
  
"How long have you been in Starfleet?"  
  
That launched another conversation, during which Ceralia's manner toward her cooled considerably, and eventually she left Deanna there to finish the pot of tea. Deanna meditated again, keeping her focus outside the viewport.  
  
This time, she wasn't surprised by the person interrupting her. She became aware of him approaching long before he entered the room, and as she opened her eyes and turned to greet him, Jean-Luc settled in the chair Ceralia had left, putting a padd on the table.  
  
"Early lunch?"  
  
"Certainly." Deanna leaned, turning to wave at Tina, who came over to take their orders. She noticed as Tina left that Jean-Luc seemed a little tired. "Is everything all right?"  
  
"I was speaking with Admiral Ross. There is a situation that's been developing on Cardassia Prime -- civil unrest has been building. There's been some rioting in the capital. In addition to the medical personnel and the rest of the supplies, we're picking up troops to deliver at the next starbase. We'll be joined by the _Dauntless_ and the _Potemkin_ , also bringing reinforcements."  
  
"It's going to feel to the Cardassians as though it's an invasion," Deanna said.  
  
"That's what I'm afraid of -- that's what I told Ross. He agrees that it's concerning but no one can see any other way to stabilize the situation without massive amounts of bloodshed. Putting security on the ground to keep the violence at bay is all they can think to do. Diplomacy is of no use when there is no organized structure to the violence. This all appears to be tiny groups of terrorists without alliances or leaders. The streets are unsafe, and there are bombings starting. It makes no sense, Dee. This is a people with an incredibly strong sense of cultural identity, and it's as though they are de-evolving. The government that's in place seems to be fragmenting. The Detapa council is disorganized and fallen into squabbling. There's no identifiable reason for it, either."  
  
"So part of our mission is to attempt an understanding of what's going on, in addition to delivering people and supplies."  
  
Tina returned and placed salads in front of them, along with a fresh pot of Earl Grey. Jean-Luc thanked her absently and poured tea for them.  
  
"I meant to get to your class this morning, but as you know, I was busy with Ross. How did it go?"  
  
Deanna smiled. "Natalia did fine in her belt testing. As expected. She'll be a green belt in six months, if she keeps up the pace as she's been."  
  
Jean-Luc glanced over his shoulder -- there were some people arriving early for the lunch break. Before any of them could approach, he commented, quietly, "You've been exercising harder, haven't you?"  
  
"I suppose I'm a little leaner than before."  
  
"I'll have to step it up. Can't have you wrestling me into submission," he murmured, smirking.  
  
"Eat your salad, Captain," she said sternly. She watched him fill the fork with greens and scattered bits of tomato, cheese and olive. "Your lady friend was here, just a bit ago, talking to me."  
  
The fork stopped in midair, and he gave her the single-eyebrow-raised scowl of disdain.  
  
Holding her lips carefully in a not-at-all-amused, prim line, Deanna glanced up to be sure no one was in earshot. "Had you not abandoned negotiations you might have managed a three-way full diplomatic agreement."  
  
His eyes closed in a wince, and it took him a moment of holding his breath to recover completely, to peer at her through his eyelashes and drop his fork. "No," he said firmly. He stared at her for another moment. "She propositioned you?"  
  
"She lost interest in talking to me, after ascertaining that I was not interested in her by asking me the age-old, habitual question asked of every Betazoid by every curious human, whether I was monogamous. I suppose it's a mark of progress that she didn't precede it by asking if I was bisexual, but perhaps she mistook my casual, non-sexual interest for something else. In any case, she's prowling, and I doubt either of us has enough information to even take her seriously, nor am I interested really."  
  
Jean-Luc picked up his fork and ate for a while. Deanna appreciated that they often fell into this quiet state together; she could tell he was thinking, but that it was typical musing and nothing upsetting. She could relax and let his presence be a way of buffering the pressure of the thoughts of others.  
  
"If it were someone else," he said suddenly, then fell silent again and seemed too interested in his salad, a little anxiety starting to form.  
  
"Have you ever had multiple partners?"  
  
He looked at her then, a little surprised. "Have you?"  
  
Deanna sighed. "It's not something we need to consider right now. We already have too much going on."  
  
"Have you?"  
  
She narrowed her eyes at him. "That curiosity will be your undoing, some day, you know."  
  
Another of his smirks, that made him look younger. "Hasn't, yet."  
  
"To answer the question, no."  
  
Jean-Luc kept his eyes on his food, deliberately. "I suppose that means I need to cancel, then."  
  
It was a blatant lie, and he managed to be completely sober. Deanna smiled, involving herself in her own meal, and considered her response. While she decided whether sarcasm or over-the-top encouragement might be more suitable, she sensed that Ceralia had returned, and was approaching slowly.  
  
As she thought about that Jean-Luc put down his fork, shoved aside his plate, and picked up his tea, leaning back in his chair to look at her and continue the current gentle teasing he'd decided to indulge in. "Are we going to the Festival of the Moon this year?"  
  
Deanna raised her eyes, startled by the suggestion -- he knew what he was suggesting, and he could only be attempting to provoke her. Peripherally, she saw Ceralia come to a halt behind him. She sensed the hesitation.  
  
Rather than respond to him, Deanna smiled and met Ceralia's gaze. "Was there something you needed, Commander?"  
  
Jean-Luc did as he often did when ambushed -- nothing. If she weren't an empath, aware of his reactions, she wouldn't have known about the freeze response, the tensing of muscles and the careful return to the appearance of a calm sip of his tea.  
  
Ceralia approached, nodding to her, glancing at Jean-Luc -- when he gave her a benign smile she responded in kind. "Captain," she said cordially, with a fraction of the warmth she'd had toward him yesterday.  
  
"Commander Baines."  
  
"Did you say the Festival of the Moon?"  
  
"He was teasing me," Deanna said, heading her off. From the tenor of her emotions, the woman was sincerely interested. "He knows how little I care for festivals -- being part of the Fifth House has me jaded, after so many years. All that bothersome costuming."  
  
"Fifth House? You're related to Lwaxana Troi -- of course."  
  
Deanna gave Jean-Luc a look. "His favorite mother-in-law."  
  
"Oh, trust me, if you gave me options...."  
  
"Mother actually likes you now," Deanna said, reaching for the pot to refill their tea cups.  
  
"Well, that's the problem, isn't it? Every time a Troi likes me," he said, deadpan as usual. The humor in his voice disguised the relief that she'd rescued him from further discussion of a festival that largely involved random marathon sex with strangers.  
  
"Your mother came to Bajor, toured the ruins at B'hala," Celaria exclaimed. "We thought she was a wonderful departure from the usual -- we usually have academics and scholars and stuffy old archeologists...." She noticed Jean-Luc's expression. "Really. You don't like her?"  
  
He opened his mouth, and shut it again, giving Deanna a pleading look.  
  
"It's a long, long story, filled with flowers, gongs, and Ferengi, and poetry, and wheels of cheese," Deanna said, giving him a sly grin. "But he actually does. In a quite disgruntled and grumpy way. He knows she is the epitome of a doting grandmother to his children, and especially to his little girl."  
  
"Do you have a picture of the children?"  
  
It was the last thing Deanna had expected her to ask. But Jean-Luc surprised her, by picking up his padd and flicking a few controls to bring up pictures. It led to Ceralia sitting across from him, on Deanna's right, and more pictures.  
  
Deanna picked up the plates and took them to the bar, and returned with a new pot of tea, then stood back a few steps from the table and watched for a few seconds while Jean-Luc showed Ceralia a picture of Yves, at his second birthday party. It was, now that she could pay attention to that, easy to see that the woman could be charming, but there was something about her that wasn't quite what it seemed. Deanna stopped short of probing and took the last step to pour more tea and sit again.  
  
"When were you on Betazed, Ceralia?"  
  
"I took leave there, quite a few times," she replied, smiling at Deanna. "I enjoy it there -- everyone's so calm and welcoming. I think Betazoids are some of the easiest people to like."  
  
"I'm a little surprised by that. So many people take the tours and visit the falls, and then they still come away knowing so little about us."  
  
"One of the reasons I was drawn to archeology, I suppose, was that I try to look beyond the surface of things," Ceralia said. "I like to actually talk to people instead of just looking around, get a feel for the culture. Betazed has a sense of peace that goes beyond just another pretty planet."  
  
"I'm surprised you aren't a counselor. You have a way of setting people completely at ease," Deanna said. She sensed Jean-Luc tense a little at that.  
  
"I do?" The comment had surprised her a little. "I've never had a problem making friends. Or -- " She looked away, upset, trying not to give that away, and Deanna thought she could guess what that was about. Ceralia hadn't intended to go there, but she'd been caught up in being genuine in the conversation. She gave Jean-Luc a little telepathic nudge.  
  
"I need to head for the bridge," Jean-Luc said. "If you'll excuse me, ladies."  
  
Ceralia turned, dismayed, watching him leave. She looked at Deanna as if to ask what she'd done.  
  
Deanna smiled, gazed into the wide, green eyes, and as it happened she caught it -- very subtle, this one. "Your mother, or your grandmother? Perhaps a grandfather?"  
  
Ceralia raised her brows. "I'm sorry?"  
  
"You're an empath. You have Betazoid ancestry."  
  
"Not really," she said, telling mostly the truth as she knew it. "My father was, empathic I mean, he was half. I'm really not. But you're right, my grandmother was Betazoid."  
  
"You have an ability to get under someone's skin, as the saying goes," Deanna said. "But you're not really able to consciously sense the emotions of others, unless they are looking directly into your eyes. You read just enough to have an intuition. Humans respond to you with more of the same, when you mirror their feelings back to them."  
  
Ceralia stared at her. "I've talked to so many people, Betazoids included, and no one has ever said anything like that to me. I'm not really doing anything, I swear."  
  
"You have a really good sense of someone, when you meet them. You know when someone is solid -- honest, warm, confident. You connect so strongly, yet you have problems finding someone who will stay, because once you're with a man for long they find out you know when they lie, when they feel upset, bitter, fearful, and so on -- and it's too difficult even with an honest person to have that much intimacy."  
  
"How do you know this?" She started to cry a little, and brushed the back of her hand across her cheek. "I've tried to talk to other Betazoids specifically about that problem and gotten nowhere."  
  
"Not all Betazoids can do this. Only the empathic ones. Not all of them are, and not all empaths are the same, either. Most Betazoids are telepathic, which is not the same."  
  
Ceralia thought for a moment. "This is the way it was for you, then. You had the same difficulty?"  
  
"I'm not sure, but I could sense it rang true to you, what I said. I was always told that I would never be telepathic. It was always assumed I wouldn't be anything more than what I was. But I could have, if I had had help, I could have had better control sooner. I understand how you feel. So if you would like me to -- "  
  
The surge of desperation caught her off guard. Then there was hope, and Ceralia smiled broadly at her, trying to flick away the tears.  
  
"But only if you leave my husband alone," Deanna added with a grin.  
  
Ceralia laughed again, shaking her head. "Oh, yes, I can tell he's quite focused on you. It's almost as if you're.... Are you bondmates?"  
  
"You don't have to feel bad, Ceralia," Deanna said, as the remorse began. "I suspect that the bond had something to do with how attracted you were to him."  
  
The stars shifted in front of them. Deanna waved at the starbase that was becoming larger as they approached it at impulse.  
  
"My old friend Rakai Belman is coming with us to Cardassia. We should talk to him."


	5. Chapter 5

 Jil left the house with her aunt. It was the eighteenth day since she'd arrived, and her mother had improved greatly. It would be time soon to return to the _Enterprise_.  
  
"I'm sorry that I pressured you to see your father," her aunt said suddenly as they walked along one of the streets through the city.  
  
Jil said nothing. There was nothing worth saying.  
  
There were few people out today, and no one seemed to have motorized vehicles any more. The public transportation system was still under repairs. The Federation was slowly restoring public transporter stations, and the one near the house had almost been finished -- she'd seen Starfleet technicians working on it just yesterday. The transporter pad was under an open gazebo, and as they passed it, Jil could see that no one was around.  
  
Perhaps it was finished. She stepped up and faced the console. It was Federation, and in Cardassian the prompt instructed her to use voice commands, in any language. "Kamal starbase," she said, and a countdown from five began. "Come on, it's working," she exclaimed, and her aunt jumped up with her.  
  
She and Aunt Jor materialized in a room she assumed was on the starbase proper. Jil expected there to be a transporter operator, but there was not one. Nor were there any officers walking in the corridor, as they left the room.  
  
"What's wrong?" her aunt asked.  
  
"There should be people. Where are all the officers?"  
  
Jil walked with her aunt out of the building, and she oriented herself quickly -- the hospital was nearby, to the right, and as they crossed a lawn and made their way to the entrance, Jil was shocked to see that the doors stood propped open and still, no one was evident.  
  
They were on the second floor before they saw an officer. A doctor, a lieutenant, and she looked confused. "Are you all right?" Jil asked. "Where has everyone gone?"  
  
"There was an order. I stayed -- some of us medical staff stayed," the lieutenant said. "There are too many patients who need intensive care for us to leave them. We told them that when the orders were issued but they didn't care. They ordered us to leave anyway. You're breaking orders, too. All Starfleet personnel were supposed to leave the starbase."  
  
Jil glanced at her aunt, who didn't know enough about Starfleet to understand how serious this was, clearly. "This isn't possible. Starfleet doesn't do this. Something is wrong."  
  
"Oh, yes," the doctor exclaimed. "If you're willing to risk court-martial with us, you could do us a favor and close and lock the doors? I was on my way down to do it. I really need to get back to the patients."  
  
"I will. If we can stay here in the hospital. It's dangerous now in the city. I'm worried for my aunt. This morning someone threw rocks at the windows."  
  
"Deal." The doctor smiled tentatively at her. "You may want to check around and see if we have any weapons, while you're at it. I heard there was a lot of violence going on. With everyone gone the starbase may be fair game."  
  
"Where did all the officers go?" Jil asked.  
  
"Off planet, I think," the doctor said. "I'm Dr. Klepman, by the way."  
  
"Cadet Jil Arran. I will assist you in any way that I am able."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Jil turned to her aunt. "Go tell Mother I will be there shortly, after I have secured the building."  
  
In the lobby, Jil went about bringing up the console at the front desk, and telling it to set conditions to red alert. As she suspected it would, the doors shut and locked, and the clear panes were made of transparent aluminum. It would take energy weapons to burn through them. The hospital computer had external sensors that would sound an alert if anyone tried to break in.  
  
As long as there was power they should be fine. She sat and searched the computer for information -- there was an independent power source, a generator on the top floor, so she had high hopes that they could be safe here.  
  
"Computer, open a channel to the _Enterprise_."  
  
"All communications systems are deactivated."  
  
Jil sighed, and stood. At least they were in a locked building, with power, replicators and everything else they needed.  
  
She was at the lift and about to touch the control to summon it. when a hand came down on her shoulder. She spun, her back slamming into the closed door.  
  
A Cardassian man, tall, slender, wearing a simple brown shirt and black pants, stood there. Smiling.  
  
Her heart started to race. She wished desperately that she had started the martial arts class she had agreed to attend.  
  
"It's all right," he said soothingly. "I'm a friend."  
  
"I have no friends," Jil exclaimed.  
  
"You have one friend, at least. Captain Picard. That's who you wanted to talk to, right? Trying to call the _Enterprise_."  
  
She glared at him, trying to slow her breathing and think.  
  
"I'm a friend of the captain's," the man said. "Also the commander's. Betting she's the one responsible for your training. She's got this martial arts class. She's quite good at mok'bara. She kicked my ass a few times with it."  
  
Jil had never heard a Cardassian use human slang before. He had, she realized, no detectable accent, and was speaking Standard -- if all comms were down, she should have no translation available via her badge.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
The smile broadened, showing straight white teeth. "You can call me Tom."

  
  
===============

  
  
"Our mission is twofold -- locate and extract agents sent in to investigate the problems on Cardassia, and stabilize the situation if at all possible. Dropping off the personnel will be delayed. Evidently, the base commander has evacuated the starbase and there's been no word as to why, exactly." Jean-Luc turned to look at Deanna, then, and she stared back, waiting for whatever he was hesitating to say. As did the rest of the senior staff.  
  
"How do we know the base was evacuated?" Mendez asked.  
  
"A message just before communications were cut, from one of the six agents, indicated that Starfleet personnel were being beamed out to one of the orbiting defense platforms, to wait for extraction. Captain Movan sounded panicked and irrational, according to the agent."  
  
"How are we supposed to find these agents you keep mentioning? I'm assuming the use of the word 'agent' means undercover," Davidson said. "From everything you've told us there's been nothing through official channels, and this has all the makings of a public relations disaster, not to mention the disaster to the Cardassians if they're falling into chaos -- so many reasons to explore every possible way of getting information."  
  
Jean-Luc looked again at Deanna. "I'm afraid you're Adira's last resort. You can, I believe, distinguish between species, and one of the theories currently in play is telepathic incursion."  
  
"The only telepaths capable of such influence on a global scale -- "  
  
Deanna couldn't put words to it, but it appeared she didn't have to. Everyone remembered well enough their experiences with the K'korll.  
  
"We have to do something," Jean-Luc said. "I am open to any suggestions."  
  
Deanna thought about it, setting aside procedure for the moment. "If I think about this in terms of avoiding the loss of everyone into the control of the K'korll, we should put deLio in command, and Dr. Mengis needs to look into something for the crew, something like the inhibitor I've used -- there should be a way to make us more resistant to their influence. We need to talk to Rakai. There may be something he can do to help us. And anyone with a Section 31 neural implant can be of use. The entire purpose of the implant is to resist telepaths."  
  
The only two people in the room aware of such things gave her a penetrating stare -- Jean-Luc had the rising ire of a captain made aware that he had agents aboard, and Dr. Mengis went stern and trying to put down the anxiety. She'd been aware of his implant, of course, but never revealed that fact. It had never been one of those things she thought should be mentioned, since he'd shown no signs of compromising their security.  
  
"Section 31?" Edison echoed at last.  
  
"We know that the Section played a large part in the war," Deanna said. "But beyond that, there's been little indication that they've been active."  
  
Jean-Luc picked up his cup and sipped his coffee, clearly working hard to ignore this. He knew too well the great effort she'd gone to, along with Tom Glendenning, to demolish Section 31 -- or at least the organization's resources, to curtail their activity.  
  
"The agents we have aboard have all been inactive for some time, since they came aboard, essentially," she continued.  
  
Now Mendez, Edison, Batris and Natalia were all sitting up straight, staring at her in dismay. "Wait," Natalia said.  
  
"You know who -- isn't that the nature of Section 31, to be clandestine, secretive? How do you know there are agents on the ship?" Mengis asked. He was perfect -- no one would suspect he was nervous, except Deanna could sense the little vibration of anxiety underneath the facade.  
  
"I know because the implant is perceptible to Betazoids. I always know, when I am talking to an agent who has one. I don't advertise that fact. I suspect not many Betazoids would understand what the sensation represents, but I do."  
  
Everyone stared at her, for a long time. She looked at each of her co-workers in turn, calm, waiting for them to get over the shock.  
  
"Captain," Mendez exclaimed at last. "Did you know?"  
  
"That there were agents aboard? It's always been a possibility, certainly. It's one of those things about Starfleet that has been a thorn in the side of anyone with principles. But they do make it difficult to do anything about it," Jean-Luc said with a tired sort of acceptance.  
  
"How do you know they're inactive?" Edison asked, his voice rising an octave.  
  
"I know when people lie, or when they are avoiding, or engaging in subterfuge. I know when they are feeling that particular blend of emotions specific to deceit and secret-keeping." Deanna hoped her smile reassured him.  
  
"This is why we don't have surprise parties for her," Natalia said.  
  
"This is all beside the point -- we can't have too many people aboard with implants," Jean-Luc said. "One or two people will be somewhat helpful, but against an enemy that turns your own people against you? Is there anything else we could do to defend ourselves against the influence of a K'korll?"  
  
"How do we even know that's what it is? It could be your basic civil unrest," Edison said. "It must be hard for a lot of Cardassian survivors to tolerate all this help from the Federation."  
  
"K'korll influence would explain the random, widespread violence on Cardassia," Deanna mused. She folded her hands on the table in front of her. "Cardassians are not particularly susceptible to telepathy -- they often intentionally practice mental discipline intended to work against it. I would suppose that the end result of K'korll influence on them would be similar to what we saw in deLio -- irritability and restlessness, and unexpected neurological symptoms that aren't typical. Instead of becoming passive and compliant, the Cardassians are unpredictable. The Starfleet personnel, on the other hand, are more likely to be affected as one would expect. Submissive. The evacuation is puzzling until one realizes that Captain Movan, who is in charge of the base, is Vulcan."  
  
"Our few Vulcan crew members reacted to the last encounter with the K'korll in an understated but striking manner," Mengis said. "They reported being less able to control their emotions, and if Movan viewed the growing number of occurrences of violence on Cardassia as a threat to his staff he may have decided withdrawal was the logical choice. You said he sounded panicked -- not something one would expect of a Vulcan even under stress."  
  
Jean-Luc cleared his throat, and once again, reoriented the conversation. "Starfleet's attempts to directly address the violence have failed. Indirect attempts, the agents that were sent, have failed -- four of the six had lost all contact with Starfleet, before the communications were disabled entirely. There are no demands, no obvious attempts to step up to take control of the government, no organizations stepping in to intervene -- the Starfleet personnel are reportedly affected into the bargain. The K'korll work in this way. An entire starbase full of Starfleet officers would not abandon their posts due to civil unrest. I realize that it's hard to believe that the K'korll made it all the way into the Alpha Quadrant to Cardassia undetected, but the mechanism for that is beside the point -- we need to retake Cardassia, for Cardassia. They obviously are unable to protect themselves from this threat. And if it is not the K'korll, we still have to find out what it is. We still need to help these people, and the Starfleet officers as well."  
  
Everyone stared at the captain now.  
  
"Dr. Mengis, you will research as the commander suggested. Mr. deLio, brief your staff. Commander, please ask Dr. Belman to join us. You are all dismissed for now until we have more information."  
  
Mengis lingered as everyone else left the room. Deanna tried not to react to him, or much of anything -- she dreaded this conversation almost as much as she did the mission as it was shaping up.  
  
"Doctor?" Jean-Luc asked, now tense about why the CMO would still be there.  
  
"Has she told you, then?" Mengis asked quietly as the briefing room door closed.  
  
"Told me what?"  
  
"His implant," Deanna said.  
  
Jean-Luc froze -- the shock of finding out that the doctor he'd taken so long to trust, to befriend, had an affiliation to a clandestine organization he hated, turned him to stone. Deanna waited for him to settle somewhat. His eyes shifted, to stare at the doctor.  
  
"When did you become an agent?" His question startled Mengis. There was a little anger in his tone, but he was otherwise calmer than expected.  
  
"When I'd finished the Academy. I was made to believe that it was a one time mission, for Starfleet Intelligence. They have a subtle way of luring you in before they tell you that you're actually working with some organization no one is sure exists. I haven't had to do anything for them in years, haven't heard anything from them since I came aboard."  
  
Jean-Luc looked to Deanna; she nodded. He'd told them the truth. The doctor had never given her the impression he was hiding anything, which had been why she had said nothing about the implant.  
  
"I suspect the majority of agents are unwilling volunteers," Deanna said. "In any case -- Dr. Mengis should be on the bridge, and if it becomes obvious to him that you or I are being influenced in some way that we are compromised in our ability to make decisions in the best interests of the Federation, he should relieve us of duty."  
  
Mengis stared at her -- it was the first time he'd ever been surprised like this, in her memory. He opened his mouth and closed it without saying a word.  
  
"We'll see you in four hours, Doctor," Jean-Luc said. They were due to arrive at Cardassia then.  
  
Mengis got up and left them there -- shocked to silence.  
  
"You're sure about him?"  
  
"Are you relying entirely on my sense of him to make the decision?" Deanna asked, going to the replicator behind his chair. She brought back a tray, with fruit, more coffee, some yogurt.  
  
"No. You should have told me, Dee."  
  
Deanna sat down and started to eat. He had called the meeting before breakfast, and she anticipated an irregular meal schedule for a while, so this was as good an opportunity as they would find. "To what end? Would it have changed anything?"  
  
He eyed her but ultimately couldn't sustain his ire. They knew others who had been used by the Section, after all. "Tom is on Cardassia."  
  
"I supposed that would be the case. His implant would help him resist telepathic incursion. I think finding him should be our first task -- he'll have information critical to helping us sort this out."  
  
"If we manage to escape being suborned ourselves. Your friend, Rakai, you spent time with him last night -- is he trustworthy? Will he be helpful?"  
  
"I believe so." She smiled, looked him in the face for the first time -- they usually didn't,  when on duty. "I'm sorry I came in so late last night."  
  
He put down his coffee cup and let his eyes meet hers. "What time was that? I don't believe I woke."  
  
"I was so caught up in what we were doing -- we have a lot to talk about. Some of what I've learned is pertinent to the mission. Some of it.... What happened between you and Ceralia wasn't your fault, Jean-Luc."  
  
He tensed, giving her a look that asked her not to do this now.  
  
"I know. You don't think it's relevant and we should focus on the mission. I agree. But I understand, because of what she told me, that you have a misunderstanding and you still feel guilt that you should not. She has Betazoid ancestry, Jean-Luc, and you have an empathic bond with a much stronger empath than she is, and when she unconsciously sensed that you are what you are, and reacted to that by reaching for you in an automatic, unconscious manner similar to the way I reach for you, there was nothing for you to do but respond -- you've conditioned yourself to be receptive to me, and there was no reason for you to believe that anyone else in the universe could reach you in the same manner as me."  
  
"I see," he replied quietly. He seemed to be watching the dish of yogurt sitting in front of her, which was doing nothing to merit such attention. But she sensed easily how that information led to a little less tension. And disappointment.  
  
"It doesn't mean that we are not unique."  
  
"Perhaps you can explain it later. For now, I'd like to know how Dr. Belman can help us."  
  
"For one thing, he's teaching me how to block extraneous input, without expending so much effort to do it. And we think we may have a better understanding of my capabilities than before. He will be able to help us once we've resolved the issue with the K'korll."  
  
The captain smiled, at that. "Confidence. I like that."  
  
"I shared a great deal of my memories regarding the K'korll and other species we have encountered, and he was able to help me see how to protect myself from them."  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?"  
  
Deanna thought about Rakai, contacting him telepathically, and sensed his acknowledgment. She smiled, thinking about Jean-Luc helping her do her hair that morning. They'd been in a hurry, and he hadn't asked a single question about her being out half the night, despite the oddity of that behavior.  
  
"I want to warn you that you can talk to Rakai, but you won't be able to hear him respond unless you're willing to let him do so telepathically."  
  
"That's unusual, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes. But nothing about a Betazoid neurosurgeon can be called usual."  
  
"Dr. Leral seemed quite normal to me," Jean-Luc said.  
  
"He can seem that way. Rakai is less able to seem."  
  
The annunciator interrupted her. When Jean-Luc called out to admit him, the man who had been a gawky, constantly-anxious boy when she'd last seen him entered the room. Rakai wore black -- a long sleeved shirt, plain black pants, black shoes -- and only escaped the appearance of being an officer by the lack of any color or insignia. He had filled out somewhat, to become a slender man with dark eyes and black, straight hair that was cropped short. He didn't tremble any more, and as his eyes found hers, he smiled.  
  
"Hello, Rakai," Deanna said. "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard."  
  
Jean-Luc rose to his feet to extend a hand, stepped around her chair, and Rakai shook hands hesitantly.  < Do I address him directly? >  
  
"Of course," Jean-Luc said.  
  
Deanna stared up at him. Never underestimate Jean-Luc Picard, she thought.  
  
Rakai sat down, Jean-Luc sat down, and Rakai began to answer questions -- Jean-Luc would as usual think, then try to ask, but Rakai would pick up his question before it reached his lips, and then answer it directly. Jean-Luc wanted to know why he had been heading for Cardassia, because if Betazoid neurosurgeons were so rare and so valuable sending one into what was becoming a volatile situation made little sense. Rakai showed them patients waiting for brain surgery, unable to be seen, hospitalized at the starbase and Starfleet doctors having less confidence with Cardassian patients consulting with him. Then they were thinking about the K'korll, and Jean-Luc's experiences, and Rakai absorbed that as well.  
  
Jean-Luc was curious about Deanna -- normally, it would be a passing thought, but Rakai was not conversant enough to understand that, and responded. Deanna responded and as she did so, realized that they were as enmeshed in each other's thoughts as they had been the previous night. She extended some effort and pushed them apart abruptly.  
  
"Computer, time."  
  
"The time is eight hundred forty two hours."  
  
Forty minutes after the senior staff had departed, thirty after Rakai had arrived, give or take. It had seemed just a few minutes.  
  
"We can't do that, Rakai," she said. "That's how it came about that I was hours late getting back to my quarters last night. The captain would like to know what you can do to help us with the situation on Cardassia."  
  
Rakai gazed at them for a moment, wondering if Jean-Luc had any questions.  
  
"You have answered my questions, I think," Jean-Luc said.  
  
"He did?"  
  
Rakai smiled at her, amused that she hadn't caught part of the interchange between them.  
  
"I see. Thank you, Rakai."  
  
Nodding, Rakai stood and left the briefing room.  
  
"How odd that was," Jean-Luc said. "It almost felt like he knew what I wanted before I did."  
  
"Most Betazoids use words, even in telepathic communication. His communication is a little overwhelming and confusing."  
  
Jean-Luc went to the replicator for croissants, and ate with her in silence for a while. He seemed to be thinking hard, and she let him do it privately.  
  
"So we'll get to Cardassia, find Tom, find the other agents, and our cadet," Deanna said. "Find the K'korll and destroy it."  
  
"Adira told me that he has lost contact with all other vessels in the system. That he doesn't want armed forces on the ground, but he fears the populace are killing each other and that it will be the end of Cardassia."  
  
"There are many in Starfleet who would not be sad to hear that," she said softly.  
  
Jean-Luc sighed, and finally showed in his face some of the feelings he typically had about the Cardassians. She remembered missions that had been tense standoffs with ambiguous ends, with Starfleet too aware of the price of war to aggressively pursue the truth.  
  
"They are in their way just as many species are," he said. "Stubbornly clinging to values that served them for a time. And then the Dominion proved how throwing in your lot with the stronger of two foes can end tragically, if you choose the side without empathy or at least tolerance for others."  
  
"If only all of us could have the empathy that some humans can show, for the misfortunes of others," Deanna said. "Even those who have done incredibly painful things to them."  
  
Jean-Luc finished eating a croissant, took a long draw on the coffee, and settled back with a sigh. "Jil said that her father is still alive. But she hasn't spoken to him since he lost his temper, when she informed him she was leaving for Starfleet Academy."  
  
"Fathers can be stubborn, and wrong."  
  
He seemed to be ruminating over it for a moment, but proved her wrong. He went back to an earlier issue -- Ceralia. "When you said it wasn't my fault...."  
  
"I meant it. I can't fault her, either, for having such good taste."  
  
It was hard to tease him this way without feeling a little guilty, when he was being so much the captain and she had promised to support that. But he looked at her with the sly smile of the husband.  
  
"You're sure about that?"  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
"It wasn't as intense. It was strange, how it was so gradual and I didn't... I think I believed it was you. And then I realized, when she laughed and I felt -- it felt like when you laugh."  
  
"You were frightened," Deanna said.  
  
Jean-Luc leaned, reached across the corner of the table to grasp her hand, and it was obvious how even now he felt the anxiety and even, still, the guilt. "It felt... like I was cheating."  
  
"Like you were bonding with someone else? You may as well say you were bonding with Rakai. You heard him, even though he didn't speak."  
  
Jean-Luc sighed heavily. "All right. I'm being silly."  
  
"You're being wonderful. So protective of us. I wish you had told me what it was about sooner, I wouldn't have teased you."  
  
He murmured something she didn't quite catch, as he raised his cup to his lips.  
  
"Jean?"  
  
"I actually don't mind your teasing."  
  
"Did you just say that? Are you all right?" She gripped his fingers and reached for him before she thought about it, running her right hand over his head. It brought her face within inches of his, and she found herself looking him in the eye.  
  
"I'm all right. I always will be, if you're with me."  
  
Deanna smiled at him, feeling the pull to kiss him and resisting. She pulled her hands away as the annunciator went off. "Mr. Mendez would like us to stop and do some work, I suppose."  
  
"Oh, well, we can't make Mr. Mendez unhappy, can we?"


	6. Chapter 6

  
"What is going on?" Mother said.  
  
Jil looked at the doctor, who was checking her mother's vitals, and looked at the floor. "The hospital is short-staffed."  
  
"Jil. I was not born last week. I have known there is something wrong for weeks, because of the way the staff here have been acting. Other visitors to my friends here in my own room have commented."  
  
Jil glanced at the one woman left in her mother's room. The others had been discharged or moved, obviously. "There's no one left on the starbase," she said quietly. The doctor shot her a startled warning glance. But she continued -- Mother had handled worse, in her life. "We're locked into the hospital and waiting for help."  
  
"Then the violence is getting worse," the other woman, Meela, said grimly. "If the Starfleet leaves it must be truly -- "  
  
"No," Jil shouted. At hearing the stress in her own voice, she slowed her breathing and calmed herself. Setting aside the sudden anger was difficult, but she was able to focus after a moment. "There is something wrong beyond violence. It's difficult to explain. The violence has not just been affecting the Cardassian population -- I think it is affecting everyone, whatever this is. I think it must be something telepathic. There aren't any viruses that would affect humans, or other species, as well as Cardassians."  
  
Dr. Klepman turned from Mother's bed and said, "I'm surprised to hear you say that."  
  
"Why would you be? I can't be the only one who's noticed. It's started to affect me. I can't stop feeling -- it's indescribable. I don't feel this way, usually."  
  
"I know what you mean. It's hard for me to feel motivated, any more. I wish I could feel energetic again. It isn't like me, but I've been feeling like that for a few weeks, and some of the other staff talk about feeling the same -- unless we're all catching some form of contagious depression, which isn't even possible without the telepathic component. And that makes no sense." The doctor sighed, running her hand through her messy hair. She looked tired. "Starfleet has to send someone -- help will come. We just have to make it until they get here."  
  
"I'm going downstairs to walk the perimeter," Jil said, unable to stop feeling anxious. Doing a patrol could help work off the anxiety.  
  
Aside from that, she knew the man who looked like a Cardassian, Tom, was still somewhere around. He stayed downstairs. He had found a weapon somewhere and that made Jil more anxious, while somewhere in her head the rational part of her that struggled to be heard told her that was a good thing.  He was helping, he said, by being on guard.  
  
She found him in a long straight corridor, looking out one of the banks of windows at the grounds outside. He glanced at her as she approached, his expression calm. "Hello, Cadet." He'd been calling her that -- he must be Starfleet.   
  
"Everything all right?"  
  
"It's calm outside, for now. There's been a few attempts to open the doors, but nothing breached our defenses so far. How is everyone upstairs?"  
  
They had about two dozen patients, five doctors, seven nurses, three support staff who were tasked with cleaning tasks to support the doctors in caring for patients. Jil and her aunt, and four other people who had been in the hospital for various reasons were put to use here and there but keeping mostly to themselves.   
  
"I think we are all starting to lose our minds. Irritable. I can't stop feeling -- it's like something is crawling on my skin. I don't understand. You are the calmest person I have seen in days."  
  
He was, too, and it was starting to annoy her, how he could be so still. The weapon tucked under his arm as if it was part of his anatomy frightened her, which made no sense to her -- she had been trained in the use of weapons. Cardassians were accustomed to seeing them from an early age.   
  
"It doesn't make sense," he said. "How everyone could be going mad, all at once. Does it?"  
  
"Do you know what is happening to us?"  
  
He seemed to. It seemed to her that he looked at her with sympathy, and wasn't exhibiting any of the deviousness or malicious enjoyment that some Cardassians could have. But, she reminded herself, he was not a Cardassian. She thought she remembered that Tom was a human name.  
  
"It won't be long now," Tom said. "Help is on the way."  
  
  
=================  
  
Deanna knew, the minute they dropped out of warp. She sensed the pressure -- there were several million Cardassians left, a tragic decrease in their population as there were once so many more, but those that lived on Cardassia Prime were detectable to her at once despite the fact that the ship had to be on the periphery of the system.   
  
She turned to look at the captain, and found that she was being watched -- he and the doctor and the counselor all stared at her, waiting expectantly.  
  
"The anxiety and fear and confusion is as conclusive as I would expect," she said. "I'm not close enough yet to find individuals, but I can sense the populace en mass well enough. It has to be the K'korll. I can feel the pressure already starting."  
  
"Sir, there are ten ships in the system -- I have sent a hail to all of them, and received no response," deLio announced, following the plan. There were two Intrepid class vessels, one heavy cruiser, a couple of cargo vessels -- then there was the _Dauntless_ , their sister ship, sent to meet them. Other ships that were probably commercial or related to the aid effort.  
  
Deanna went to stand behind Natalia at the helm, and watched the console as the Enterprise approached at impulse -- the closer they came, the more pressure she felt behind her eyes. She compensated as she and Rakai had planned. It helped, but did not eliminate the feeling of something attempting to shove her aside.   
  
Then she became aware that she was no longer sensing anything of her own crew. In front of her, Natalia seemed to be losing coordination; her hand glanced off the panel and her fingers twitched, instead of the usual dance of fingertips to make a course correction.  
  
Deanna turned to see the captain stiff in his chair, deLio standing stiffly and scratching his neck -- more of the symptoms they'd seen before, making it more and more clear that it was the K'korll, and all the steps they had taken would be needed. Mengis stood up.  
  
"It's difficult, but I'm still functional," she said. "Computer, put the ship in a standard orbit around Cardassia Prime. Lieutenant Greenman, go to the briefing room."  
  
Natalia almost fell out of the chair. She shoved herself up from the floor, leaning as if gravity were pulling her off balance. As she left the helm Deanna sat down in her place.   
  
Once the ship was in orbit and oriented so as not to collide with other vessels, she turned to survey the damage. Mendez, at ops, was looking nauseated. Two ensigns at the back of the bridge at auxiliary panels were sitting and looking dazed. deLio had a wide-eyed expression that was wholly unlike him. The captain concerned her, looking dazed, watching her with apprehension that told her he was at least somewhat aware of things but clearly he was not himself.  
  
"Doctor," she exclaimed.  
  
"Are you able to lead the away mission?" Mengis asked.  
  
"I appear to be but no idea how much longer that will be the case. You have the bridge, Doctor."  
  
"Perhaps an open channel?" he asked, as she went up the bridge to the lift.   
  
deLio came with her. In the lift, she asked the computer to establish the open channel directly with Mengis, and leave it open. She attempted to reach Jean-Luc and reassure him, but failed; she could sense the confusion and feeling of failure from him, but very little else. The transporter attendant looked ill. They had to tell the computer to beam them down to the Kamal starbase, choosing that as their starting point.  Jil's mother had been hospitalized there and Deanna thought that perhaps Tom might have been able to guess they might choose to start there.  
  
The transporter room was empty. Deanna drew her phaser, as did deLio, and they found their way out of the building.   
  
"You are all right?" deLio asked.  
  
"I feel quite odd but I can think. It's affecting my empathy but I believe I can sense Tom -- this way."  
  
Fortunately, the base was not large, and her sense of Tom led her toward a single six-story gleaming building. As they came up broad stone steps, the doors slid open, and a tall, slender Cardassian in plain clothes stood waiting for them. deLio's phaser came up at once, but Deanna put a hand over it.  
  
"Tom," she said.   
  
The face under the makeup was barely recognizable as Tom Glendenning, but when he smiled she could see it. "Hey, Dee, been waiting for you."  
  
"Why haven't you taken out the K'korll by now?" She came up the steps at a run. "You're probably the only person who can get close enough. You have a weapon."

"That would be great if I knew where they were. Been looking all over, finally settled on holing up here and protecting the folks in the hospital until reinforcements arrived. I came here to get a tricorder or something, and they locked out all the computers before they left."  
  
Of course -- Tom wouldn't have enough information to track them down, especially if the computer systems on the starbase had been disabled by the K'korll. "How many are here?"  
  
"Your cadet, some of the staff determined to stay with patients, and a few others. Forty-five in all. There are random angry Cardassians showing up at random intervals, banging on windows. Thank the brass for typical Starfleet over-engineering that the windows could survive a quantum torpedo. I've only had to shoot a couple of smarter ones that try to pry open a door."   
  
Deanna turned to find deLio scratching again. "Stay here and protect the hospital."  
  
"I promised the captain -- "  
  
"You will protect the hospital, Captain Glendenning will protect me," she exclaimed.   
  
"The computer shuts it all down when you set a red alert," Tom said. It was disconcerting to look at him but he sounded just the same, only he was being all business -- likely a byproduct of running entirely off his implant. She had seen him do that before. It would ultimately leave him in a state of physical exhaustion that would mean extended leave, but obviously it was necessary.  
  
deLio went inside, and Deanna turned down the sidewalk again, away from the hospital. She reoriented herself slowly as they walked back toward the building that housed the transporter. "Who's in command? Mengis?"  
  
She wasn't surprised that Tom knew about Mengis. "At the moment he's the only one on board not passing out. I'm going to fade soon, myself. It's becoming harder to focus. But I believe they are actually close. There is a solid presence in -- "  
  
Pain stabbed through her forehead. When she recovered herself, became aware again of external stimuli, Tom was holding her by the shoulders, keeping her steady, looking her in the eye.  
  
Inhaling sharply, she reached mentally for Jean-Luc. It was like stubbing her fingers on a wall reaching for something on a shelf. She found Tom, at least the part of him that wasn't the implant, and drew another shuddering breath. Something about having him there, familiar and calm, helped her clear the confusion and brought her back to the task at hand.   
  
She reached, mentally, and nodded. "Due east."  
  
"Can you run?"  
  
"I'm not sure. My legs feel like wood."  
  
He swooped her up in his arms, and ran. It was ridiculous how effortless he made it look. She closed her eyes and put her arms around his neck, trying not to be too unwieldy a burden to him. He was using the implant, she was sure, driving his body well past its normal limits. While he did the work of traveling, she focused on her sense of the K'korll, issuing course corrections when she felt they were going the wrong way. She lost track of things for a few minutes. When he put her down some time later, she opened her eyes and saw they were in the city proper, outside the starbase. Refocusing herself led to realizing there were more than a dozen people within a hundred feet of where they were, and the K'korll, the strong, purposeful presence sending wave after wave of compulsion to succumb, relax, give up, relax, give up, give up, were so close -- they detected her immediately and she felt them bearing down on her.  
  
"Fifth floor, in front of us," she said. The words sounded slurred and her tongue started to feel like wood.  
  
Tom helped her in the front door. It was some sort of public building, with a large lobby, but things had been ransacked and tipped over. He put her in a chair. "I'll be right back."  
  
"Yes." She watched him run off, the rifle at the ready in his hands, and then tried to keep her eyes focused on a painting across the room. A watercolor, she thought, and tried to understand why there would be an ocean scene in a public building on Cardassia that reminded her of Betazed.  
  
Some eternity later, the building rose from her head and her mind started to clear of the fog. She heard the thunder of running footsteps somewhere overhead, and here came Tom down the stairs she hadn't registered were there. He no longer had the weapon and some of his prosthetics were torn -- his own skin, his ear, a little of his real hair, showed through a long tear on the side of his head. He sank to his knees in front of her and leaned on the arm of the chair she was sitting in.  
  
"Deanna," came the voice of Dr. Mengis, sounding as though he didn't expect a response.  
  
"Doctor," she said, putting an arm over Tom's shoulders. He wasn't looking so good. Now that she could sense him again, he felt worse -- like he'd been running on adrenaline for a week. He probably had. "Do you have a lock on my badge?"  
  
A pause. She sensed then what she hadn't been -- everyone. Her crew, the population, the pain, fear, confusion, and all the anxiety rising as people started to recognize that they were free of something they had not recognized as oppressive. Humans, Cardassians, and others -- the Starfleet personnel that were responding with anger.   
  
"We have a lock on you and deLio," Mengis said.   
  
"I have Captain Glendenning with me. Two to beam up."  
  
"Thanks, Dee," Tom said. "Going to shut off the implant once we're up."  
  
"Thank you, Tom, for everything," she replied as she felt the transporter start to pull her away.  
  
Her knees gave way on the transporter pad, and Tom collapsed next to her. She retained the presence of mind to roll and catch him before his head could strike the floor. He was so much worse than she, and shutting off the implant had plunged him into unconsciousness. A medical team arrived.  
  
She became aware, as the team put Tom on a litter and helped her along toward the lift on her own two feet, that no one had escaped -- the medical personnel were leaning on her almost as much as she leaned on them. They were a little stronger, a little more awake, than many. Mengis was there in sickbay, as was the captain -- she lurched toward him instead of letting them guide her to a biobed.   
  
"No," she moaned.   
  
"Deanna," Mengis said softly, putting a hand on her arm and tugging. "He's stable. Come over here."  
  
She had to be pulled away from him. Jean-Luc had had a bloody nose; there was dried blood on his face, and a bruise on his head. The expression on his face hinted at pain. He was not conscious. When they forced her onto the biobed she had to give in -- the exhaustion overcame her, and then a hypospray touched her neck.


	7. Chapter 7

Jil heard the screaming before the footfalls, as someone ran down the corridor. She leaned against the closed door of her mother's room, heart racing out of indescribable terror. Meela was crying. Mother moaned, hand to her chest.

"It's gone," Jil gasped. "It felt like my head was under a rock -- I didn't even realize it. Are you all right? Mother?"

"I am. I will be, if my heart will slow down. I have to breathe -- why can't I breathe?"

"Whatever it was had a hold on us," Meela exclaimed. "Now that it's let go, we've got to find our balance. Don't lose yourself."

Jil pulled a chair over and sat in front of the door. She bent over and inhaled slowly, slowly, and after holding it for a moment she exhaled ever so gently. It was starting to help, until someone else screamed, elsewhere in the building.

"We'll be all right," Mother said firmly.

Jil inhaled again. 

 

================

 

Deanna came awake suddenly. She expected to find herself in sickbay, on the stiff and uncomfortable biobed she'd been put to sleep on. She moved, stopped herself before she could fall off -- and realized she was in her own bed. 

Sitting up, she put a hand to her hair, down loose around her shoulders, and winced a little. Her head had a hollow ache to it, something like being hung over. The memory of what she'd done came rushing back then, and she searched for her children, her husband, and found them close. Jean-Luc responded with reassurance and moments later he came into the bedroom.

"Amy's having trouble sleeping tonight," he said, coming around to sit on her side of the bed. "Cygne, how do you feel?"

"What's happened? How did I get here?" 

He gathered her close in his arms, against his chest. "You don't remember that we came home? I suppose you were that groggy."

"What's going on?"

"At the moment, very little. Everyone's still recovering. Tom's still flat out in sickbay. Are you feeling better? You had a bad headache and you vomited before we got you into bed. That was eight hours ago. You came back from the planet two hours before that."

"Greg sent me home with you? Are you all right? You were bleeding," she exclaimed, leaning back to look at his face in the dim lighting. 

"I'm fine, Deanna. I was knocked out when I fell, after the K'korll put me into a trance. I was trying to reach you. The harder I tried, the more I felt pressure in my head."

Deanna felt her stomach roll over; she tensed, and Jean-Luc was in motion at once, helping her to the bathroom. She coughed into the sink briefly and brought nothing up. Rinsing her mouth with a sip of water, she turned to him and found him smiling, standing there in his nightshirt and shorts. 

"Strongest telepath in the universe," he whispered. "You beat them. One damned empath."

She couldn't quite smile at it. "One empath, one former Section agent in a disintegrating Cardassian disguise. He carried me half across the city from the starbase."

"We apparently got a lot of calls, once you and Tom took care of the K'korll. Edison took over the watch when the rest of us were brought to sickbay and Mengis had to switch back to doctor from officer of the watch. The starbase personnel are returning to their posts. Captain Movan and I spoke briefly, when I was released from sickbay. He wants to join us for our morning debriefing. He wants to understand how this happened."

"My head is starting to pound again," she said with a sigh. 

"Greg said that might happen. He left a hypo to use. Do you feel like you could eat something? You haven't had anything since breakfast."

It lead to him putting her in bed, fetching her some warm milk, braiding her hair while she was sipping Aunt Adele's recipe. When he finished the braid he put a hand on her leg, as he looked in her eyes. 

"I'm feeling a little better," she said. "Greg is still awake. deLio is pacing. There's -- "

"Dee. Stop."

She took a breath. "I love you, Jean-Luc."

He took the glass from her to put it on the night stand. When he reached for her, she leaned forward into his embrace, cheek to cheek. She felt the slow rise of his chest against hers, and his dry lips brushed her ear.

"So proud of you," he whispered.

Deanna leaned back out of his arms and raised her hand to his face. "I was so afraid that we would fail. If Tom hadn't been there we wouldn't have made it."

"Fear is beside the point. You would have managed. We always do."

She did as she had over the past months, each time he said something that her rational mind told her was irrational. Accepted that it had always been true, what he said -- what he believed. 

"Okay."

He was smiling -- grinning, and pulling her back into his arms. Bliss filled him through and through. It was, after all, exactly as he'd anticipated it would be. She was the first officer he had expected. And they had succeeded in handling the worst case scenario that Starfleet Command had been dreading since the fallout of the incident at Khevlin had proved they were unprepared for what was left of the Randra Alliance. 

"We're having a meeting in the morning. You should rest."

"What kind of meeting?" 

"The briefing will be attended by Admiral Adira, remotely, among others. You're the guest of honor. Tom will hopefully be awake for it as well."

Deanna leaned against him and closed her eyes. Her stomach started to clench again. 

"Dee?"

"I haven't seen the twins in two days," she murmured.

"We'll go in the morning, before the meeting. What can I do for you to help you sleep?"

"This is fine," she murmured, pushing her cheek against the front of his shirt. She felt his chin against the back of her head as he held her close in his arms and rubbed her back gently.

Eventually, as she dozed off again, he eased her back under the covers. He stayed seated on her side of the bed with a hand on her shoulder. She peered through her lashes at him for a while until she fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

  
Jil came awake, sat up in the chair, and glanced at the window -- sunlight streamed brightly through the thin curtains. She felt almost normal again. The slight headache was an improvement over the throbbing, painful one she'd had the previous day.  
  
Mother was still asleep, she noticed, and Meela was no longer in the other bed. Jil left the room tentatively and found that things looked normal once more, Starfleet staff going to and fro, with and without patients.   
  
As she approached the desk at the end of the hall, Dr. Klepman came around the corner and smiled as she approached. "You look a lot better. Good to see. I wanted to talk to you about releasing your -- "  
  
A whistle from the viewer on the wall, which usually showed an ongoing ever-changing series of scenic images while playing soft music, got everyone's attention. Heads turned, and people stopped walking. Jil realized it was playing all over the building -- a member of the Detapa council appeared on the viewer, announcing to the entire planet, apparently, that disaster had been avoided.  
  
"Citizens of Cardassia, I am Legate Renarr. I am speaking to you now to assure you that the events of the past weeks are at an end. You likely experienced feelings that perhaps made little sense to you -- this was the result of an invasion, of a species of telepath from the Beta Quadrant outside Federation space, that came here in a captured Starfleet vessel, an invasion force intending to take control of Cardassia. Starfleet has successfully intervened and I sincerely hope that today, you find yourself thinking clearly, feeling freed of their influence -- the telepaths have been neutralized and removed from Cardassia. Starfleet personnel on Cardassia were equally affected by this but have similarly recovered and returned to their posts."  
  
A pause, and Jil heard incredulous muttering behind her -- some of the Starfleet nurses.   
  
"Starfleet will maintain a stronger presence in this sector, and institute regular inspections to protect the Federation from similar incursions in the future. We are requesting more medical personnel to address any lingering symptoms and creating more public clinics to increase access to medical services, with the help of Starfleet. I would like to thank the Starfleet personnel who intervened on the behalf of Cardassia, specifically the crew of the _Enterprise_. I thank you, and encourage you to continue your efforts to help us make Cardassia strong and independent once again."  
  
"Isn't that your ship?" The doctor smiled at Jil, as the viewer returned to displaying a landscape.  
  
"Yes. I did not realize it was here," Jil said, smiling. She surprised herself, feeling pride that her crew had been responsible for defending her home world.  
  
"Since I might not get the chance, please thank your crewmates on my behalf." The doctor put a hand on Jil's shoulder. "Now, about your mother?"  
  
===============  
  
Deanna was still tired, but feeling much more herself as she headed from the daycare to the conference room on deck two. She was joined en route by Dr. Mengis and Tom Glendenning.  
  
"How nice to see your face," she commented. "And to see you've recovered."  
  
"I'm only mostly dead," Tom replied, giving her a tired but happy grin. "I need to stop pretending I'm Cardassian, I think, it's getting really old."  
  
"They must have been truly desperate," Mengis commented. "To send in spies like that -- I have to wonder what the government made of it."  
  
"Since they didn't seem to understand what was going on at all, I doubt they noticed," Tom said. "One more peasant in the streets didn't make much difference."  
  
They left the lift and approached the door. Deanna hesitated, and both men stopped behind her. "Something wrong?" Mengis asked.  
  
"I don't know. Someone in there is very angry." She steeled herself and went in, putting on a serene smile. There were, as she'd sensed, four people in the room so far. Jean-Luc waved her to the head of the table and introduced her to Legate Donnara, a tall Cardassian woman who smiled pleasantly, and Legate Kamir, the angry man who had come with her -- he smiled as well, with tight lips and a stiff bow.  
  
Mengis went to stand on the other side of the table with Counselor Davidson, who was obviously waiting to sit until everyone else arrived.   
  
"And this is Captain Glendenning," Jean-Luc exclaimed. "He and the commander were able to stop the K'korll."  
  
"Thank you, both," Kamir exclaimed with forced enthusiasm. "It has been difficult these past weeks, trying to deal with the senseless violence -- it was making no sense, that we could not find reasons for people to be so aggressive to one another."  
  
"We expected to find that the problem was rising resistance to the strong Federation presence on Cardassia," Donnara said. "I never would have imagined these K'korll would travel so far to attempt to take over such a... strategically poor target."  
  
"But that was, I suspect, precisely what drew them here," Deanna said.   
  
Before either of the surprised Cardassians could react to that, the door opened to admit a stream of officers. And then the bridge called, to initiate the admiral's holographic presence, the head of the table occupied by Adira's seated hologram, and Jean-Luc began the lengthy introduction process as more people entered the room. He started the meeting, finally, after deLio came in and stood by the door, hands behind his back. Four starship captains were seated in holographic projection frames in front of the viewports, while around the table were the senior staff, Tom, the two legates, and the admiral.  
  
Adira smiled pleasantly and looked past Jean-Luc, on his immediate right, to Deanna and Tom. "I believe I would like first to hear an accounting from Captain Glendenning, as I know he arrived a week ago."  
  
"There isn't much to report," Tom said. "I arrived on a runabout and found that no one on the planet could be reasoned with. Everyone I spoke to was in a state of high anxiety that influenced their ability to be rational. It seemed no one was even going to work -- public places were abandoned. The starbase was evacuated. It was what has been reported as typical of a world under the influence of the K'korll, almost down to the letter. One of the first things they manage to do is make people paranoid about their own computers being used against them, so they are shut down, secured behind retinal scans or destroyed. So I couldn't even manage a tricorder. The base was locked up tight when I got there. But the hospital is an independent system, and the dedicated doctors refused to follow orders to leave despite being under the influence of the K'korll, so I holed up with them until reinforcements arrived."  
  
"Where is Commander Data?" Adira asked. "Your vessel?"  
  
Deanna turned to stare at Tom. She knew he'd been worried, but the admiral had outed it -- now Tom was shaking his head, looking angry and feeling fear. "They weren't responding when I tried to contact them this morning."  
  
"One of the problems with the K'korll," Jean-Luc said. "When they are in sufficient numbers an entire system can become disabled, and that includes any vessels in the area. Once we arrived we started to experience the effects immediately. If they hadn't disabled them we would have been just as bad off as the population of the planet."  
  
"With the computers disabled, how did you locate them? So far as I know, there have been no bioscans made of a K'korll. A tricorder would also require proximity," Adira said.   
  
Tom pointed at Deanna. "An empath who's met one before makes a fine tracker. Took me close enough and a rifle did the rest."  
  
"The bodies are in our morgue," Mengis put in. "I'm going to do a thorough autopsy after the meeting."  
  
Silence fell, and Deanna thought that Adira's smile was the most genuine she'd ever seen on him.   
  
"You are saying that these telepaths disabled the entire system," Kamir exclaimed. "Not just the capitol city? This wasn't a strike against the government."  
  
"We found the K'korll in Kamal, near the starbase," Deanna said.   
  
"But that's not near the capital at all." Kamir turned to Donnara to gape with her for a moment. "What do these people want?"  
  
Deanna glanced at her captain, at the admiral, and neither of them gave any guidance, so she turned to the legate. "Nothing. They want absolutely nothing. They are in essence an artificial species, created by a long-absent race called the Randra thousands of years ago. They were left behind when the Randra went wherever they went, but they are slaves to their genetics, so as meaningless as their ongoing indirect conquest of every species that comes within their range of influence is, they confuse and suppress the initiative of people. Or, in species resistant to telepathic influence, cause paranoia and fear, and influence them to shut down the very things that would help them comprehend the situation -- computers and scanners. It makes perfect sense to them to do so, thanks to that influence."  
  
Kamir was having difficulty with this. "They could have controlled the government and had anything -- "  
  
"You are thinking about what any species might do," Deanna said. "The Randra used these creatures to control entire civilizations without violence. Subjugation without awareness that they are being subjugated. The K'korll don't even show any awareness that they are doing this. But when I approached them yesterday and they detected I was aware of them, they focused their efforts on me."  
  
Donnara leaned forward, her brow drawing together. "If they were able to -- do as they did to everyone else, how did the two of you get close enough to kill them?"  
  
"A very small minority of people are immune to the K'korll long enough to act against them." Tom was understandably concerned about discussion of his implant.   
  
"I am confused," a dry, even baritone said from behind them -- only a Vulcan could manage that while claiming confusion. "Telepaths that take over civilizations could surely overwhelm a single Betazoid."  
  
Deanna turned in her chair to look at the hologram of Captain Movan. "If you would like, I could teach you to defend yourself as well as I. It's not a complete defense. More a delay of the inevitable."  
  
"You said, Captain, that the commander was able to track them," Adira said. "I'm not an expert in Betazoid abilities but it's not clear to me how you were able to do that, Commander. It could be useful information."  
  
"That would be a function of empathy, rather than telepathy."  
  
"Empathy isn't standard in Betazoids, or many other telepaths," Tom said. "And I think there aren't so many of them in Starfleet that can claim the same level of perception."  
  
"It's fair to say that Commander Troi is unique, in a number of ways," Dr. Mengis said. "She's been exposed to a number of telepathic species that most have not encountered. Previous exposure to the K'korll led her to recognize them at once, which was how she was able to find them on Cardassia."  
  
"How did they get to Cardassia?" Kamir exclaimed.   
  
"There is a ship in orbit that disappeared several years ago. An Intrepid class, the _Adamant_. We knew that it was in the possession of an alliance within the Beta Quadrant." Jean-Luc glanced down the table as he spoke -- at Natalia, who had been the one to report that the ship was still intact after a period of captivity. "No doubt that was what they used to make it across Federation space -- unless they came across another Starfleet vessel that would know it had been reported missing, they wouldn't have necessarily been questioned."  
  
"These creatures are capable of taking one of your vessels," Kamir blurted, incredulous.  
  
"No." Deanna raised her head then, thinking about the situation rather than the meeting. "There are dozens of factions in the Beta Quadrant. Some of them are capable of capturing vessels, with telepaths not so powerful as the K'korll but nevertheless powerful enough to overwhelm those who are susceptible to them. There are different kinds of telepathy, and there are those desperate enough to use them in ways that telepathy should not be used. What we are seeing are species who have long been set upon by others who seek only to dominate, struggling with each other, never trusting each other -- it's the logical end to the endless cycle of groping for power to protect ourselves. The only way to defeat such an escalation is to fight for peace, for cooperation, to gather the weak until we are strong enough together, and to find ways to circumvent that telepathy. To that end, Dr. Mengis has begun the search for methods to help us resist the K'korll."  
  
"You already found one," Donnara exclaimed, gestured across the table at Tom.  
  
"Violence is never the real solution," Jean-Luc said. "There must be other ways. We cannot allow desperation to drive us to aggression on an ongoing basis -- there is a way."  
  
Kamir glared at the captain, but only for a few seconds. He had good self control -- he caught himself and composed his face into calmer lines. Deanna looked at him steadily until he noticed, and looked back, the anger simmering beneath his facade.  
  
"I do not want to see any more civilizations brought to their knees by their own attempts to defend themselves against a threat that does not exist." Deanna continued to stare at him, intent and trying to keep his attention. "So many of the species we have been attempting to establish relations with, in the Beta Quadrant, have continued to be suspicious of us -- I understand that. Centuries of having no one they can trust. Ingrained sense of self preservation. Then a shining ship full of confident people promising help -- is it a deception? Is it just another way to lull them into letting down their defenses, all the better to enslave everyone? They have to trust us until they understand they can -- to set aside the survival instinct and be with us, instead of constantly fearful. It's hard for them to do, being so isolated in the Beta Quadrant and knowing nothing about the Federation."  
  
Kamir looked at her with a familiar expression -- he knew what she was doing, knew she was talking directly to him, and recognized some of her truth. He also had the underlying mistrust so common to Cardassians, that nearly every representative of the species she had ever met felt. It was similar to seeing client after client as a counselor, watching as they protected intimate secrets and vulnerabilities from exposure.  
  
She felt sadness, sympathy, and continued to look him in the eye. "Setting aside old habits, old feelings, old fears, is the key to progress. Humans are why the Federation exists -- they are good at believing several contradictory things simultaneously, at embracing the future that can happen even in the face of the situation as it is. Betazoids merely see what's there. Humans accept reality and reach for other things. I've learned to embrace the future as they do, so the fact that you don't believe me, that you are furious that your people are still struggling to recover from the Dominion's senseless attempt to eradicate you and you have to rely on a Federation that you hate -- that won't deter me from helping as many people as I possibly can on Cardassia, in any way that I can. I don't even believe that kind acts will do anything to persuade you to feel differently. I was a counselor, you see, and I know that people of all species can experience feelings that exist in spite of mountains of evidence to the contrary. Facts, generosity, peace treaties -- all of that won't persuade anyone so determined to cling to hostility, old wounds and old beliefs. But I can sit with you and work with you, just the same. Because I can sense the pain -- there are thousands of men, women, and children on the planet below, all confused and some in pain. Many of them are angry. I want to help them, not to prove to them that I am a friend, but because I want to be a friend. I have nothing to prove. I know what I am. I know what everyone in this room is, because I sense that as surely as I know myself."  
  
Kamir's anxiety and twisted anger, frustration and suspicion sat in his chest like a lump. His companion felt the same. She couldn't tell what the admiral or the others there via subspace were thinking, didn't want to look at them, but everyone else were open books to her.   
  
"Circumstances and mistrust make people enemies," she continued calmly. "But people choosing to refuse to indulge such inclinations make friends. The only control that I have in any situation is over myself -- I am a friend, to people who can decide to be my friend, and I have done so repeatedly over time. People have hated me, raged at me, stabbed me, hit me, tried to kill me and I will continue to be their friend. I am sitting in a room with people who have directed emotions at me that I have absolutely ignored, emotions that most would destroy many friendships if known, and I choose to be on good terms with them. If you can tell me truthfully that you can do the same, I can call you a friend as well."  
  
Both Cardassians stared at her for a bit. "I can call you friend," Donnara said.  
  
Deanna smiled at her. "You can, but you don't intend to think of me as one."  
  
Donnara turned to her companion with awe. It was at that point that the admiral cleared his throat lightly, and Deanna knew she was treading on shaky ground.   
  
"I can call you a friend," Kamir said at last.  
  
"I can believe that," Deanna replied. "Because even if you don't want to do so you intend to make that effort."  
  
Donnara smiled now with genuine happiness, and nodded. "I do as well."  
  
Under the table, Jean-Luc's hand sat on Deanna's knee, and she had to keep blocking the emotions he was floating in -- peripherally, she saw Tom maintaining a diplomatic smile despite admiration for her effort and the instinctual reaction of a captain who'd had decades of dealings with Cardassians. He couldn't trust them from the gut. He had to trust them, officially, thanks to the treaty.   
  
"I've been in the Beta Quadrant and dealt with this species," she said, keeping her attention on the Cardassians. "I know that this incident is terrifying. But Starfleet will protect you, along with the rest of Federation space, to the best of our ability, and we have been developing tactics to counter future incursions already. We want to help you," she said, putting weight into each word, leaning forward. "Helping you will help us understand more about the K'korll. Helping you is what we want to do, because you need help. We have a Betazoid doctor aboard who can help your people recover from the aftereffects of exposure to the K'korll. He can help the worst cases -- most will be able to recover on their own, but the K'korll discriminate, focus especially on individuals who they perceive have useful kinds of power or control -- they may have focused on people in charge of the power grid, the defenses. Things that solidify control over the population. There will be individuals who need intervention to survive. Will you let us help you?"  
  
She wondered if those words had ever been spoken to the Cardassian government. They reacted with surprise -- as if they hadn't assumed that they had a choice. "Yes, absolutely," Kamir exclaimed.  
  
"Captain Picard, would you speak to the plan to secure the system?" the admiral said, abruptly putting an end to the moment, and Deanna quietly pushed her chair away from the table, went to the replicator, and returned with glasses, moving around the table to place them in front of the Cardassians. They nodded, and Donnara looked up with surprise when she recognized the drink as a popular Cardassian beverage. Deanna gave her a tight smile and moved on, past the table to the door, and leaned close to deLio.  
  
"Assemble an away team, take a runabout, secure the _Adamant_ ," she murmured.   
  
"Sir."  
  
As she returned to the replicator, deLio left the room. This time she placed a cup of tea in front of Jean-Luc, a cup of coffee in front of Tom, and sat down with her own tall glass of ebi'lan. Jean-Luc didn't even stop talking about the deployment of probes to create a sensor net as he sipped.  
  
At the end of the meeting, which surprised her for not being excessively long, Jean-Luc stood to accompany their guests to the transporter room, and the others lingered, knowing there would be a second meeting to discuss the first. Mengis smirked at her as he moved into the chair abandoned by Kamir, and Tom dropped an arm over Deanna's shoulders.  
  
"Captain Glendenning, really," she chided, giving him a look.   
  
"I carry you around in my arms and now you don't want to be touched? You wound me," Tom said, grinning his silly goofy grin. "You, my dear, have missed your calling. We should have sent you in to talk to the Cardassians years ago."  
  
"Commander, you impress me," Captain Movan said.  
  
She turned in her chair to look at the Vulcan. He of course stood ramrod straight in the holographic projection frame between the holograms of Captain Karsden of the _Dauntless_ and Captain Shelby, whose ship had arrived that morning with the rest of the troops. Shelby and Karsden were smiling at her knowingly, almost fondly.   
  
"High praise," she said, giving the Vulcan a subdued smile.   
  
"Indeed," Movan said without a hint of self deprecation. "I have not met a Betazoid willing to use their abilities in the manner described. I did not think any were able to do such things. I am curious, whether you are able to influence the K'korll in a manner similar to their influence over others."  
  
She thought about Rakai, and his psychokinetic abilities -- thought about Jean-Luc and Dr. Leral's suggestion that they healed faster in proximity to each other. "I hadn't considered that to be a possibility. I don't believe it would be a solution, either, to have a single person with that ability. My human parentage makes me unique in several ways -- most Betazoids do not show strong empathic ability."  
  
"I commend you, Commander Troi, on your ability to reach the Cardassians," Admiral Adira said. She turned to him, still finding the holograms disconcerting. Adira didn't appear to be disingenuous.   
  
"It probably helps to be empathic, to have genuine sympathy for them," Karsden said.  
  
Tom made a quiet sound -- disbelief, she thought. Deanna turned to look at him. He'd settled back in his chair, drinking his coffee, looking thoughtful, but she knew he was feeling what he often did, a little defensive of her.   
  
"I have no doubt that being a counselor also helped," the admiral said. "Counselors have to be able to set aside personal feelings in their work."   
  
Another snort from Tom. He was daring someone to comment.  
  
Shelby crossed her arms, shifting her weight to her left leg, bending at the right knee, demonstrating how difficult it could be to stand for long periods. "Tom?"  
  
"Being a counselor for someone who's been through the gentle persuasive tactics of a Cardassian doesn't help her at all," Tom exclaimed, raising his head as if challenging anyone to disagree. "Some fuckwit psychopathic gul with a happy song in his heart when he's got a whip and a set of manacles -- "  
  
"Tom," Deanna exclaimed, surprising herself at the steel in her tone. Then, she realized what that was. Tom shouldn't know. "How many missions did you have, undercover, with the Cardassians?"  
  
The flicker of pain at a memory quickly tucked away again -- it felt like snagging a nail on fabric, to her. But he gave none of it away. His blue eyes regarded her with a measured curiosity for a mere second before he grinned again. "Well, we can't really talk about that, can we?"  
  
"No," Adira said disapprovingly.   
  
"Fuckwit," she said, just to watch Tom's head jerk upward, hear him laugh. "You and your strange colloquialisms." She sensed Jean-Luc approaching, and stood up with his empty cup, her near-empty cup, and went to the replicator. As he came in and returned to his seat, she handed him more hot tea.  
  
"You may have made some good progress, today, with the legates. Perhaps we should approach the Council as a whole, with her," Jean-Luc said, as he sat next to the admiral.   
  
"Is the sector secure?" Adira asked, as if the discussion just a short time ago had never taken place. Deanna thought about commenting on that -- it wasn't the first time she had the impression that the conversation with the Cardassians in the room was a separate discussion, perhaps even a fiction, as if they could not be open with them in the room.   
  
Jean-Luc hesitated as well, and she knew he didn't like that either. "We made inquiries, hailed other vessels and bases, but it appears that the recovery from the K'korll's influence is continuing, and not everyone has shaken off the typical haze of confusion."  
  
"I sent Lieutenant-Commander deLio to secure the _Adamant_ ," Deanna said. "On the chance that there may be more K'korll aboard her. Or other parties with less than altruistic motives, for that matter. Mr. Edison is continuing to send hails, requesting responses, from those ships not accounted for. There are no unfamiliar species within my range, at the moment. Beverly is fine, Tom," she added, turning to look at their friend. "In a typical haze post-K'korll. I suspect that Data was among the computer systems that the K'korll compelled your crew to deactivate. He would be here, now, or at least responding to hails."  
  
Another few moments of silence, at that, and she glanced around this time to find everyone regarding her with varying amounts of surprise.  
  
"Captain Picard," Adira said, crisply bringing the meeting back to order.   
  
As he asked another question about resources for defense, Deanna picked up her coffee and smiled at Tom. He was more at ease, now, and smiled back at her with less affection than he felt. She turned to look at the admiral while he spoke politely.


	9. Chapter 9

Mother was still moving slowly, but Jil was happy to see her up and moving, and with a better range of motion than before. The cracked ribs had finally been mended, doing away with the chest pain left over from the bad fall Mother had taken down a short stairwell. The pneumonia was gone. 

"This is such an impressive ship," Mother said as they entered Ten Forward. "So clean. Thank you for showing me where you work."

"I wish we could have visited the bridge, but I didn't get a chance to ask permission," Jil said. "This is Ten Forward -- it's like a restaurant. Everyone gathers here for social time, after their shift. If they want to, of course."

The hostess arrived, smiling pleasantly. "Hello, Jil. It's been a few weeks -- how is your mother?"

"This is my mother, Jin Arran. Mother, this is Guinan. She is the hostess here in Ten Forward."

"A pleasure to meet you." Mother's greeting was sincere -- Guinan was, too, making it easy to relax. 

"Why don't you come sit over here, and I'll get you something to drink?"

Guinan led them to a table near a viewport, and left them there to return to the bar for their order. Jil saw that her mother was seated comfortably and took the chair on the other side of the small table. She noticed the other cadets, then, sitting around a table about ten meters away, near the piano in the far corner. Jil focused on her mother with a smile, determined not to look for Carrick or bother worrying about it.

She was explaining to Mother how her training was progressing when Mother's head came up slightly, her eyes traveling from Jil's face to some point over her shoulder. Jil tensed, but a familiar voice reassured her.

"Well, Cadet, it appears you have survived the crisis and our worry was unnecessary," the captain said.

Jil came to her feet stiffly, turning to face him, and saw that he stood close, with a small being held in his arms. "Sir."

"At ease, already. Is this your mother?"

Jil nervously introduced them, and to her dismay he asked permission to join them, and her mother gave it with enthusiasm. And so he swung a chair over and sat slightly back from the table, with the child leaning against him, head on his shoulder, apparently asleep.

"Is this your child?" Mother asked, embarrassing Jil further.

"Her name is Amy, and she's having a very bad day, since the telepathic incident overwhelmed her yesterday. The staff in our daycare has little luck in calming her so I sacrificed my afternoon to walk her around the ship for a while, since her mother is busy on the bridge coordinating the effort to secure the sector." The captain smiled up at Guinan as the hostess brought drinks for Jil and her mother. "The usual, if you would, Guinan."

Guinan put a hand on Amy's head briefly. "Want me to take her for a while?"

The child didn't move as the hostess picked her up and moved off with her in her arms. "Guinan is one of our babysitters," he explained. "I assume you've taken her on a tour of the ship already?"

"I showed her my quarters, and some of the lower decks. I didn't want to interrupt you or the commander to ask permission to see engineering or the bridge -- "

"Cadet, really, we may have a situation going on today, but we also want to accommodate our esteemed guests -- we'll show you the bridge when we've finished our beverages, of course, Madam Arran."

"I can understand why my daughter holds you in such high esteem, Captain," Mother said with a smile.

"It's a privilege to have her aboard," the captain said, shocking her into a state of stiff, wide-eyed immobility. A waitress appeared to place a tea cup in front of the captain and went away again. He smiled at Mother, ignoring Jil's surprise. "I have had the extraordinary honor of seeing many firsts, aboard the Enterprise -- we had the first Klingon in Starfleet, as our security officer. We were there, when the Romulans joined the Federation, after so many centuries of mistrust. And now we have our first Cardassian cadet -- as much as it saddens me that circumstances had to be as they were for us to make peace, it's encouraging that we already have a cadet in training."

Jil watched her mother's face -- his words, and the apparent sincerity, made Mother happy. Mother glanced at her, then, and her expression changed. The happiness remained, but a wary sort of questioning joined it.

"He knows about Father," Jil said softly. "I didn't tell him. He knew before we met."

Mother stared at the captain, shocked now, impressed and uncertain of what to say. Captain Picard had a solemn expression, but was not so far angry, or even a little upset. He seemed to almost expect this, and certainly appeared to be accepting of it.

"Your daughter is a credit to you, Madam Arran," he said quietly, raising his cup to his lips.

Movement disrupted the moment -- the little girl returned on her own, toddling up to lean on the captain's knee. He picked her up and settled her in his arm, letting her sit there and lean on him again as she chewed her fingers and looked at Jil with dark eyes like the commander's. 

"Papa," the child said softly. She smiled, closed her eyes, and tightened chubby little fingers around a handful of her father's uniform. 

"You are well, I hope," he said to Mother. "Jil was extremely worried -- you were in the hospital?"

"Yes. A respiratory infection, and then while I was so weak from fighting the infection I fell down stairs -- I went through the last regeneration cycle yesterday."

The captain smiled sympathetically. "I've lost track of how many times I've been through the regenerator -- it's hell getting old."

Mother laughed, and then Jil found herself listening to them chat about the pros and cons of aging, with a strange sense of unreality. And then the captain's badge chirped, and he excused himself as he stood to return to the bridge, telling the commander he would drop Amy with someone named Kelly. He hesitated after the channel closed and studied Jil for a few seconds.

"I realize it doesn't feel that way, Cadet, but at some point, when you have a few promotions and you can relax, you'll find that you can have a life that approaches normal. I'll hope on your behalf that you learn this more quickly than I." He looked at Mother again. "Please feel free to come to the bridge, when you are ready."

And then he was striding away, with the child looking back at them drowsily over his shoulder.

Mother waited for a while for her to say something, but Jil could only sip her drink and try to feel calmer. At length, Mother put down her own glass and folded her hands in her lap. "Your father is in Kamal."

"I don't care," she responded, in the same automatic way as always.

"Nor do I, really. I have not seen him. A friend saw him, a few weeks before I went into the hospital, and told me about him. I received a message from him asking to see me. I ignored it. I have nothing to say to him. I thought I should give you the information."

"I have not changed my mind."

"I would expect not. Nor would I expect you to, if you saw him, or happened to speak to him."

Jil placed her empty glass on the shining black table with a crack. She stared out at the stars, at a large Starfleet vessel easing by the ship, and frowned.

"I am proud of you," Mother said.

Before Jil could react, the cadets from the far side of the room went by. Carrick was among them, and she refused to look at him even though he veered close to the table, laughing, shoving a friend, and hesitated near them to make some sort of soft clicking sound, a laugh, a snort.

"Cadet Arran," he drawled. 

"Carrick," she said blandly.

"The captain's pet," Carrick muttered.

"Cadet!"

Carrick and the others came to attention, and Jil sprang up again -- this time it was Lieutenant-Commander Greenman, frowning, glaring at Carrick as she halted near Jil's table.

"Get yourself where you need to be," Greenman said sternly. "As I recall, that would be engineering -- since it's past lunch hour and you're on split shift. Mr. Batris is expecting you."

"Sir," Carrick responded crisply. He launched himself after the others, who were double-timing it out of the room. 

Greenman glared after them, then turned to Jil. "As you were," she said calmly. "The captain sent me to get on them. He knows their schedule too."

"Sir," Jil replied.

Greenman's eyebrows drew together, in that expression of confusion she sometimes saw on humans. "Carrick is being watched. We don't tolerate his kind of attitude, here. It's inappropriate. So if he continues to push you, report it to me or Commander Troi."

"Yes, sir."

Greenman's brown eyes seemed to be searching Jil's face for something. "I came aboard as a cadet, too. I was pretty tense for a long time. I had a lot of things going on in my head, and I thought it would be bad, if everyone knew about them. But I learned that if you do your job, and work harder, and show you're doing your best, you fit in here. When the captain decides you're family, you're in the safest place in the galaxy."

Jil couldn't think of a response to that, caught herself gaping, closed her mouth.

"You're fine, Cadet. See you when you come back from leave." Greenman nodded to Mother, and turned to leave Ten Forward.

"Are we ready to see the bridge?" Mother asked, rising from her chair slowly but steadily.

===============

Deanna looked up from the auxiliary panel she'd been using to access information about the Cardassian defense grid when the lift door opened, and smiled at Cadet Arran. Jean-Luc had mentioned that her mother was aboard, so it was no surprise to see the heavy-set Cardassian woman in a plain forest-green dress with the cadet. 

"It's good to see you are well," Deanna exclaimed, approaching the two, smiling at Jil. "I was concerned when we were told of the violence -- this is your mother?"

Jin Arran was happy, and proud, and genuinely pleased to be aboard -- there was some resemblance between mother and daughter in the eyes. Since Jil had yet to have bridge duty, Deanna led them around, introducing officers and giving short descriptions of duty stations. She showed them the empty briefing room, and sensed Jil's surprise when she led them to the ready room. 

"This is where the captain is, when on duty but not needed on the bridge," she explained as they entered. "And this is of course Captain Picard."

"Hello, again," Jean-Luc said as he came from behind his desk and invited them to sit on the sofa. When Deanna settled on the end next to Jil's mother, he raised an eyebrow at her.

"I can spare a few moments, unless you're going to be a complete martinet about it," she said.

Shaking his head, he sat in the comfortable chair across from them. "This is not typical," he told Jil. "She's been here far too many years, gotten too comfortable. You see how that could become a problem."

Deanna was pleased to see the cadet respond with just a little trepidation, but with increasing confidence that she knew her captain well enough to loosen up. "But she understands when you are serious, certainly."

A patented Picard frown, at that. Jil faltered internally, but remained outwardly placid, relaxing again as he spoke. "The commander has a good sense of people, true enough. She tends to teach others too much about me, however."

"I never say a word. You merely bluster far too obviously," Deanna said calmly. "It's been a particular problem with the young ladies."

Jin Arran was on the verge of laughing at them, as he glared at her. Jil glanced around at them trying to understand how to interpret things. Deanna gave him a look, and he straightened up at once.

"I was telling Madam that the cadet has been doing quite well," he told her, the return to duty his automatic reflex. 

"Jil has focused almost entirely on duty," Deanna said. She considered, but postponed mentioned concerns. "Her class work has been nearly flawless."

"And yet?"

Deanna looked at Jil's mother, and realized that she had heard the very slight hesitation. "One of the ongoing themes in her work is her determination to see Cardassia become a member of the Federation more fully, in more than just the matter of a treaty. I have no doubt she is throwing her heart into her work because she believes it. But having no relationships with the others aboard, having no social contacts, is concerning."

Jin gazed at her daughter calmly, waiting, and Jil did not fidget, but her expression gave away the anxiety. She was stuck, trying to respond to her mother's obvious concern. 

"I find it hopeful that she has accepted the captain's occasional invitation to tea," Deanna added, pushing a little past what she knew to be his comfort zone. One did not point out his small indulgences of paternal instinct without risk. 

Jil's reaction, however, was the problem -- she swayed back, shocked, twisting in place to stare at Deanna as if she'd just suggested that the cadet take the watch. The strength of her reaction was enough of a distraction that he did not voice the rising ire at Deanna's transgression.

Deanna met Jil's gaze steadily, and waited with the calm of a psychologist who had dealt with Reg Barclay, the most anxious man in the galaxy.

"What -- " Jil paused again, struggling. "Is that what it means? He said -- I was the captain's pet?"

"What?" Jean-Luc spat.

Deanna frowned, genuinely upset on Jil's behalf. "You were in Ten Forward with them. Carrick has been obvious in his dislike of her. He told you that, today?" she asked Jil.

"Yes. Before Commander Greenman ordered them to engineering. She -- " Jil went silent again, mouth open, the wheels turning rapidly. 

Jean-Luc feinted as if to come to his feet, perhaps to go eat Carrick and spit out the uniform, but Deanna pinned him down with a glance. "I believe we should leave Carrick alone," she said, crossing her arms. "You are supposed to meet with him next week. I suspect he will shoot himself in the foot well before then."

Unexpectedly, it cheered Jil -- she settled back on the sofa. "I believe that metaphor means he will do something to get himself into trouble," she told her mother. "I did not understand the comparison to a pet, but perhaps it means favoritism?"

Deanna sighed, smiling at the cadet. She could see why Jean-Luc liked her. "It's not an unusual suggestion for people to make, but he's never been one to let unfounded accusations affect how we do things, here. If the captain wishes to provide some help to someone, or to show an interest in mentoring one of the cadets, I don't see that as a bad thing. I can testify to the fact that favoritism is nothing but an allegation."

"You said that you had no friends," Jil's mother exclaimed, with a note of reproach. 

"Mother," Jil replied with desperation, as if begging her not to be so disrespectful. 

Deanna stared at Jean-Luc and waited. He waged a silent war, but she knew he would lose. He started to shake his head.

"This is all your fault," he exclaimed, glaring at her. "I was a perfectly happy old misfit, listening to my music, reading my books, ignoring the lower ranks."

"The captain thinks I am a bad influence," Deanna said, turning to Jil. "What do you think?"

"I'm not certain how he defines 'bad.' I think that he is wrong," Jil said. The hint of a smile said that she was indeed as smart as she appeared. Deanna sensed that the cadet felt less uneasy than before. And Jean-Luc was happy to hear her show the courage to contradict him, even if only in a joking manner.

"Captain," Jin said, getting their attention with her serious tone. "I know what was said in the announcement made by the Council. Was it true, that we were under the control of telepaths?"

"Yes. The commander and another officer neutralized the threat."

"I don't understand. What motive could there be, coming to Cardassia?"

Deanna waited, but Jean-Luc gave her the look, handing off the explanation to her. "There are species in the Beta Quadrant with motivations that make very little sense, by our standards. I suspect they would have found Cardassia to be a useful base of operations within the Federation."

Jin was confused, but seemed to accept it. She turned to her daughter. "I was beginning to feel as though you should come home. It makes me nervous that you have been encountering such opposition, just being in Starfleet. But I can see that I cannot protect you even at home."

"Mother.... What I said, about feeling so out of place. When I came to see you I only felt at home on the starbase. The officers didn't look at me differently, really, but I think I have a better perspective on what that's really about."

Jin covered one of her daughter's hands with her own. "So it was really just getting used to the new environment?"

"I should have listened to you." Jil looked down, then looked at Jean-Luc. "You told me the same thing."

"A thousand years ago, I was a cadet," Jean-Luc said. "I have a few memories left of that period."

Deanna chuckled at him. "You told me it was at least four thousand years ago. Perhaps an epoch?"

"I resent that you are teaching the cadet to tease me," he told her firmly.

"I seriously doubt that she is incapable of learning it all on her own. You only adopt the intelligent ones." 

"You are married," Jin exclaimed.

It startled Jean-Luc wordless. Deanna smiled at their guest. "We are, however, it was not unusual for me to tease him before that was so."

"The child has your eyes," Jin said. 

"I had Amy with me in Ten Forward," he said when Deanna turned to him for an explanation of how they had met one of the children.

"There is also a picture here," Jil said, pointing past her mother to the framed image on the end table.

"And, that was not teasing -- Cardassians express interest in each other that way, and I am told that humans do so as well," her mother exclaimed.

Deanna laughed at that, thinking about Jellico arguing with Gul Mocet. "I have an entirely new perspective on a certain admiral," she told Jean-Luc.

"Well. I feel vindicated, now, in not getting trapped into arguing with any of the guls I've met," he replied with a tiny hint of a smirk. 

Both Cardassian women went silent, and looked down at the table. Deanna watched them, but paid more attention to Jean-Luc -- he was uncomfortable but more with their reaction than with memories of Cardassians of the past. Jil seemed to feel guilty, again.

"You have done nothing wrong," she said softly. "That was a long time ago."

Jil suddenly had the worst expression of woe, the ends of her mouth turning down. "My father is in Kamal," she said.

"You sound distressed by that." Deanna heard herself relapsing again -- the counselor was already seeing Jil, she needed to stop channeling Counselor Troi. 

"She told him, didn't she? My aunt?" Jil asked her mother.

"She might have. I don't know." Jin glanced at Deanna, uncertain as to what to make of her daughter's behavior. So this was an atypical level of emotion on this topic. 

"What is your concern, Cadet?" Jean-Luc said, and it was what Deanna expected -- formal, but with enough warmth and concern to soothe. She remembered it well -- she still heard that side of him, though not always directed toward her. 

"I don't want to see him." Jil's voice cracked, and her eyes glittered with tears. Her hands were shaking now. Humiliation started to creep into the waves of anger, fear and pain. It was disconcerting for Jean-Luc, watching the girl struggle to regain control of herself.

"Then I suppose you won't," Deanna said. "We'll give your mother quarters for now, until things in Kamal settle -- there's still quite a lot of anger and turmoil on the streets. He can only come aboard with permission and we don't have to give that to him."

Jil stifled a sob and her shoulders dropped slightly. "Thank you, Commander."

"You know," Jean-Luc said casually, "perhaps we should make it a standing order, for the transporter room. No uninvited, unapproved guests."

"I would, if that weren't already the rule. I had to be sure my mother wouldn't just show up any time she liked."

"Yes, well, that's a rule I can support. Perhaps you should add one about clothing?"

Deanna sighed and glanced at Jil. "Just because my mother likes to be comfortable. In any case, you shouldn't worry about him."

But Jil was settling down, and looking at her with earnest concern. "I don't want him to harm the captain."

Deanna felt herself going tight-lipped at the thought of Madred being in the same room with Jean-Luc. She looked at him and saw that he'd developed a slight curl of the upper lip himself. "I'm not concerned about that, either. You're staying on the ship."

"One of us has to stay with the children," he said, smiling at her fondly. "In any case, even if I were to go down I would have quite a number of people with me, as I'm sure you would insist on being there."

"Are you afraid he will harm your mother as well, Jil?" Deanna asked. "Or you?"

Jil looked at her mother with anxiety in her eyes.

"I appreciate your hospitality, but I have a home," Jil's mother said. 

"Mother, please stay aboard," Jil said softly. 

Jin Arran studied them calmly, turned to her wide-eyed daughter, and nodded. "All right. Thank you, Captain."

Deanna heard the quiet tone from the captain's desk, announcing an incoming call. "I'll take them to guest quarters on deck seven, Captain."


	10. Chapter 10

Jil went to her quarters for clothes, and found Ma'grill there. The dour woman almost smiled, as much as a Klingon hybrid ever would. "You are returned."

"My mother is staying aboard for a while, so I'm going to stay with her. The captain is allowing her to stay for her safety. Have I missed much?"

"We completed the first aid course. There will be another, for the cadets who did not take it this time. We will start a new rotation next week." Ma'grill watched her pull folded clothing from a drawer. "Your mother is better?"

"She was released from the hospital yesterday. Was the ship affected as well?"

"It was -- " Ma'grill seemed to lack words. "Overwhelming. Alarming. I thought that I would be on suspension. I lost control and became involved in a fight over nothing at all. There was broken furniture. It was not acceptable."

"But it was not you. The telepaths were influencing everyone. It seemed every species was influenced differently. Cardassians became paranoid and angry."

Ma'grill nodded, her dark hair swinging gently. Her hair had been disconcerting, until Jil became accustomed to it -- the long ropy locks hung around the cadet's dark-skinned face like a headdress. "I became aggressive. I am not aware of what other species were doing. I was consumed with rage, convinced that I had to fight. When the pressure stopped I was greatly disturbed by the damage I had done."

"I lost awareness of others, finally, toward the end. I couldn't move from a chair. I was afraid."

"The commander said that this is one of many challenges we will face." Ma'grill thought soberly for a moment. "I joined Starfleet for the challenge. I did not anticipate this level of difficulty."

"Are you discouraged?"

Ma'grill smiled -- almost threatening, to see the conical teeth. "No." 

"I will be back next week, I think. I hope that the situation on Cardassia will be resolved by then."

Jil left the cadet and returned to deck seven, to the amazing cabin her mother was in, and put the clothes in the second bedroom. When her mother left her father, they had been for a while in the most dire situation -- forced into a single room where both of them shared a bed. This was the opposite, the quarters almost larger than Aunt Jor's house, certainly better appointed than the apartment they had had in Lakat.

"Imagine," Mother said, turning from the viewport as Jil returned to the living room. "Imagine all of Cardassia living like this. Commander Troi said that most Federation worlds are this way, spacious living accommodations and replicators. They would have helped us years ago -- it was our own government, being so cruel to the poor people," she exclaimed, furious all over again.

"You trust the captain," Jil said tentatively.

Mother turned from the view of the stars and strode toward her. "Do you remember him? Your father took you to see him, when you were very small."

A rush of anger, hopeless fury, swept over her, and she allowed the tears to fall this time. Mother had seen them before, though they hadn't talked about this at all. "What did Father tell you?"

"More than he believed he did. I was very young when we married, Jil. I was very old when I left. I knew enough by then to understand how one can be so very cruel, while speaking soft words and smiling. I have never told you -- but you are old enough that I believe you know the truth without needing my confirmation of it."

Jil looked at the dark gray carpet, in perfect condition. The chairs, clean and new-looking. Perhaps, she reflected, they could not have this discussion on Cardassia, where it was too real to face.

"Father was so careful of me, so kind, giving me pets and presents and kissing my head, reassuring me," Jil said softly. "When he took me to see the way he abused captives of other species, he told me over and over how enemies should be treated. I believed all of it -- now that I remember how they were, and I know how they should look, how they normally talk and what their facial expressions say -- no one in the Federation has treated me badly. Everything Father said to me was wrong, but he believed it so much. He was, he is, an intelligent man -- he taught me so much. How could he be so kind to me, but so cruel? I can't reconcile it. I do not have enemies here."

"Not even that other cadet?"

Jil snorted, shaking her head, even smiling a little. "Carrick is a child. He is like the boy I went to school with in Lakat. He teases pointlessly. Nothing he does is painful to me. What the captain suffered at Father's hands -- " She couldn't talk about it yet.

"He treats you very well. I think he likes you. I find that most curious, when some humans I've spoken to express anger about past encounters with Cardassians, or losing a relative or friend in some skirmish years ago."

"I couldn't stop feeling that he must be planning something, or somehow deceitful," Jil said. "If he were Cardassian it would be exactly that. But I can't see anything that suggests that is true. Commander Troi is the same. I did not realize she was not human. Betazoids are... we are told that they are simple. That their telepathic ability makes them easily overwhelmed, weak, easy to manipulate. I think that we have been misled, about so many things regarding Federation species."

Mother nodded, her subdued smile tinged with anger that drew her lips thinner. "We all travel this road, being taught one way, finding that everything is more complicated -- we either become manipulative, deceitful, cruel, to succeed in the Cardassian way of life, or we accept a life of simplicity and powerlessness."

"Commander Troi said that we could leave. You could live elsewhere. Federation citizens live on Federation worlds -- you could live on Earth."

"I might visit. I do not believe I would be comfortable there for long, however. You, Jil, you can be the first of many -- you can learn to be at home in the Federation. I believe you already have." Mother touched her cheek fondly. "And I feel better that you have people who can help you -- your commander is right. You need friends. Come now and prepare us something to eat -- teach me how to use this replicator."

Jil turned to obey, setting aside difficult things yet again.

==============

Deanna returned to quarters, leaving the transporter room -- the last of the personnel they had brought to Cardassia had transferred to the base in Kamal, finally. Ceralia had requested further help if she had a chance. As she had hoped to continue meeting with Rakai, Deanna had no problem with Ceralia's request and made plans to come down to the starbase the following day. But now it was time to have dinner with friends. 

Beverly rose from the couch to come hug her, as she entered the room. "Good to see you, Dee -- are you all right? Tom told me about what the two of you ended up doing." The doctor's eyes flitted up and down as she spoke -- looking for traces of anything suspicious.

"I'm tired, but it's been quite a long day. We have a lot left to do."

Tom lazed on the couch with his arms spread wide along the back of it, watching them, and smiled as Deanna came to sit with them. Beverly settled again next to her captain and smiled happily. 

"How's Jean-Luc?" Tom asked. 

That seriousness was so unusual for him that Beverly's smile faded, and Deanna frowned at him. She remembered then what she'd sensed in the meeting, and it was consistent with his feelings now. "Jean-Luc worked through Cardassian-related trauma to the point that he doesn't do what you're doing," Deanna said.

Tom flinched, bodily, and laughed out loud with very little mirth. "Ow," he complained.

"You are making me turn into a counselor again. I prefer to be your friend. Are you having difficulty with being here?"

Tom gave her a look that typically she associated with Jean-Luc -- a leave-me-alone warning scold, that she'd gotten so many times back in the days of trying to wrestle him around to talking about what was bothering him. What she was about to say didn't get said -- the door opened, and Yves raced in, yelling, flinging himself at his aunt and uncle with Fidele on his heels. Jean-Luc came along in his wake with Amy seated on his shoulder and swung her down to her feet so she could join the melee.

Data was there by dinner time, twenty minutes later, and he brought Lora and Phoebe along. Natalia was only a minute behind them. It was a typical gathering, for them -- a little sad, that Geordi was gone. But conversation was light, teasing even, as Natalia was as easygoing and cheerful as always. She didn't seem to be feeling aftereffects of the previous day's experience, and had been handling the cadets for Deanna most of the day -- keeping them on schedule while the rest of the crew worked on the Cardassian defense grid and went about transferring supplies to the planet's surface. 

Deanna put the children to bed when the time came. Lora settled in easily with Amy, enjoying her time with the little girl, and Yves didn't even try to sit up reading to Fidele. They were all asleep in minutes, before the story was finished. Deanna closed the book, set it aside, and left them all snoring, closing the door behind her.

Data was watching her -- everyone was, she realized, as she returned to the living room. "Data?"

"I did not anticipate that you would be so different," he said in his calm, straightforward manner.

It was enough to stop her in her tracks. She stood in the middle of the room, and crossed her arms. "I have to wonder what you mean, but I'm afraid to ask."

But Data said nothing. She wasn't the only one who'd changed. She went to Jean-Luc's end of the couch, sat down with him, just a little apart from him -- these were friends, but somehow she hesitated to touch him as she often did this time. There was a strange feeling to the room, that set her on edge. 

"What's wrong?" Tom asked, proving that her tension was visible in her face. Again, she sensed more from him than he was showing. 

"I don't know that there's anything wrong. I've been trying to block out so much, all day, because everyone on the planet and on several starships are still recovering from the K'korll."

Beverly had a sympathetic expression. Waves of concern and even a little trepidation came from her. Tom was worried, watching her with dark blue eyes, his arm tightening across Beverly's shoulders.

Jean-Luc was calm, actively pushing worry out of the way, but it was the kind of concern he felt on missions, not really about her. His hand came down on her back, between her shoulder blades, ran down her spine. Deanna leaned back and his arm went around her, letting her rest against his chest.

"I've been working with Dr. Belman," she said. "Also talking to Counselor Davidson, and Dr. Mengis. I sometimes take inhibitor to keep things tolerable, but because of the K'korll, I wanted to be more aware."

"You seem... less happy." Data clearly didn't want to say anything, but was that concerned.

Deanna smiled at her old friend, who had been her mentor in many ways. "In a way, I am. In others, not. This is a difficult situation, with Cardassia. And a difficult situation with the twins. Have you been to see them?"

Data looked at Beverly, who felt mildly guilty. Perhaps for going to see them on her own, perhaps for something else, but Deanna sighed, and refrained from asking. She turned to look at Jean-Luc and found him wearing that inscrutable expression she'd seen before. Behind it, he waited, ready to do whatever she needed him to do, thinking about her, not the mission or their friends. Being the same husband that had been doggedly determined to keep her from succumbing to depression after the twins were put in the incubator. 

In a chair, apart from everyone on the couch, Phoebe watched and listened raptly, reminding Deanna of Data in the early days when everything was an opportunity to learn about how to be human. She had straight blond hair that was exactly the color of Ceralia's. It added anxiety, not wanting to confuse her -- she was a child, despite the appearance of being adult.

"I...." Deanna couldn't find words, any more. It was a first. She'd had many times that she didn't want to talk about her feelings, her experiences, and many times that she had simply done so, feeling comfortable with Beverly, or Tom, and knowing that talking helped. But this time, there wasn't anything left to say.

"Go home," Jean-Luc said quietly. "See you tomorrow."

And so they did. Deanna looked at the floor, smiling a little when Beverly touched her shoulder in farewell, and again as Tom teetered down to kiss her on top of the head like the big brother he tried to be. Data had to verbally prompt Phoebe and began to explain that people sometimes experienced emotional states that made it difficult for them to discuss even with close friends, and that time would make that process easier. 

She rolled toward Jean-Luc, curling up a little, nuzzling against his shoulder and closing her eyes. 

"You're different, but I think Data meant you seem off today. I think you are not able to channel that usual facade, that you have down to an art. It's hard, keeping yourself open, being on the alert, all day. I haven't felt you much -- I've become used to having you there, as you've been able to do these past months."

"Missing me?" She smiled a little at it. 

"Yes."

She walked her fingers up the front of his jacket and started to work it open. "I need sleep, I think, but I'm not sure I would be able to."

"Perhaps there's something to do about that?"

"I'd like a bath."

"Some help with removing the uniform... some back-washing. I could use some practice, finding those Betazoid pressure points."

Deanna started to cry, suddenly, as for some reason the gentle suggestions from him brought the stress of the day to a point that felt too sharp. His arms went around her and eventually she became aware that he was rocking her, as he had done so often with Amy. Soothing her.

Eventually it abated, and the pain ebbed with the tears. She uncurled, sitting up, shifting away from him slightly, and he let her slide out of his arms but caught her hands.

"I've done it again," she whispered. "Let myself be overwhelmed. I have to figure this out, I can't keep doing this to myself."

"You need to find your balance again."

It was an eerily familiar statement, and she wrinkled her brow at him, trying to remember. "I said that to you," she concluded.

"And you were correct. And I did find my balance. And then I failed to put into words how much it meant to me, that you spent all that time with me, despite knowing how much you helped me get back to normal. I hadn't got to the point where I could articulate it yet. I couldn't allow myself to feel so... vulnerable."

Deanna nodded, trying not to start crying again. "I'm not able to pretend I'm invulnerable. Fortunately I have you to help me, when I'm struggling."

"Come along, Cygne. There's a bathtub to fill, and feet to rub."

She let him undress her and put her in the water, and watched him undressing. "Thank you for not letting me be assimilated by these difficulties."

He froze for a few seconds as he came to get in, wincing. "Dee," he growled.

"It would be so easy for you to justify letting me deal with all of this on my own. It would be appropriate, expecting me to work with the counselor, and the doctor. I haven't even asked you for -- "

"Deanna," he interrupted. Jean-Luc sat down in the water facing her, as he had so many times before. He stared at her across the ripples and steam. "You don't have to ask. Any more than I had to ask you for help, any of the times you've helped me."

Deanna pursed her lips, thinking about the times she had to provide couples counseling. The times she had to listen to a couple argue about who did what, and what was fair, and normal. She knew normal was not even a word she could use, in her own life. 

"It helps me too, you know."

Her eyes came up from her unseeing introspection. "It helps you, to rub my feet and do my hair?"

"And walk around with Amy. And everything else -- you told me that I was too isolated."

Deanna groaned and let her head drop against the edge of the tub. "Okay."

"I can't decide if 'okay' means you agree, or that you give up, or maybe it means something else?"

She closed her eyes against the unreasonable, unusual anger she felt when he said it -- she spent a moment trying to understand why it made her angry. "I suppose it means different things each time. I'm sorry I've been so moody."

"Come here."

It was nice, settling in next to him, skin to skin. Nice to have the familiar contours of her husband's body against hers, to be held against his chest. "You still surprise me sometimes, Jean-Luc."

"Good. My evil plan is working."

"Unlike so many other evil plans, I find myself drawn to discover more about yours, instead of just putting a stop to it."

He chuckled quietly and the weight of his hand pressed her head against his shoulder. 

"Please stay aboard the ship," she whispered. 

She knew what it would do, but the terror triggered by Jil's plea to keep her father from hurting her captain seemed to creep out when she relaxed. Jean-Luc shifted slightly and his tension and concern worked their way in with her own.

"You know," he whispered back.

"I can't," she blurted, "I can't, if something happens to you I can't -- "

He wasn't surprised at all. He held her tightly and let her sob, harder than before, until she hiccuped to a stop. It took longer than she expected.

"I'll stay aboard if you will," he said at last. "All you have to do is get the captain to agree."

She sat up, then raised herself to sit on the edge of the tub, swing her feet out, reach for a towel. "I may as well concede now."

"Yes, I hear he's quite stern, about dereliction of duty. Towel?"

Deanna turned to pass him a fresh towel before starting to dry her hair. "I keep thinking I'll be able to find a day that I don't love you more," she said.

He followed her into the bedroom, toweling off as they went. He sat on his side of the bed and pitched the towel aside on the floor.

"I'm having difficulty with Tom," she said at last.

Jean-Luc had just slipped under the covers. He looked up at her, across the bed. Watched her get in beside him. "In what way?"

"I think he had some serious trauma related to the Cardassians. And I feel so different now, than before. It's as though -- it feels as though I was almost blind before. Things I sense -- I get more than a feeling, it's like information simply appears in my mind, I don't try, I don't perceive that I received information, it's simply there. He feels something that reminds me of helping you after -- And there are images now. I felt so much anger from him in the meeting. He represses so automatically."

"He's triggering your trauma of helping me with my trauma," Jean-Luc said. "So you need to tell him to go to counseling."

"I've told him that before. It worked as well as telling you not to do your duty."

"No, you tell him that his trauma is affecting you -- the way to get rid of Section 31, or get him to deal with something -- you or Beverly, needing safety. Things he won't do for admirals, he'll do for you."

"I can't force him to get therapy, Jean-Luc."

"You won't have to. Any more than you have to blackmail me into getting you chocolate."

Deanna sighed heavily. "I don't like the way I'm changing. I'm sorry, that I've been shutting you out so much -- today felt so overwhelming."

"Computer, lights out." In the darkness he came to her and put his arms around her. "If you're worried about it changing us, don't be. Things change. It doesn't mean the changes will be bad. I've changed so much since you came aboard, and it's exceeded any expectation I might have had."

"We didn't get a chance to debrief, after the meeting."

"Tomorrow morning over breakfast is soon enough. I spoke to Adira after you left with Jil and her mother. You impressed him. He wanted to know if perhaps things had changed, if you were ready for your own ship."

"No. I can't even think about it. I don't even feel like myself at the moment, how could I make a decision like that? Especially while the twins -- "

"Dee, it's all right. I already told him that wasn't likely. I know better than to think I'd make a decent house husband, as well. I only brought it up to let you know how well you're doing."

"It doesn't feel that way. I feel like I'm coming apart. There are moments when I freeze -- " She didn't like the way that was coming out.

"It's why I'm telling you. You're fine, Dee. On duty. I know you want to keep proving yourself, and I know you need to be able to function without my support, but you already proved that. I want to help you through this, because if it helps you find your balance faster, that's what I need to do. All right?"

"That wasn't why I was blocking you," she exclaimed. "I felt so bad today, I didn't want to worry you, or overwhelm you. I focused on blocking everything out instead."

"So it doesn't help you, relying on me?"

Deanna lay there in his arms, watching the running lights of a ship overhead, blocking out the stars. Probably Venture. "Not always, any more."

He was silent for a moment, and then she felt the slight pressure -- one of the things he wasn't supposed to be able to do, but he was asking. So she let that barrier go, and let her husband in again. 

He wasn't surprised by anything she worried about, and eventually she fell asleep with her head on his shoulder.


	11. Chapter 11

  
Jil took her mother to the holodeck in the morning, knowing what a distraction that would be.

Mother stared at the controls. "What does it do?"

"Where would you like to go first? What planet?"

Mother looked into the room at the grid, yellow on black. "I don't know."

"Computer, load a basic simulation of Earth, San Francisco."

The computer put them on Market Street, complete with pedestrians of all kinds, human and non. The tall shining buildings, air traffic, and blue cloudless sky were so different than the gray skies and dull browns and grays of the buildings on Cardassia. Mother stood on the street corner and gaped.

"So bright," she muttered.

"It was difficult to adapt," Jil said. "The Academy is over here. We can walk or take a tram."

"This is where you lived. In this city?"

"I had a room at the Academy. I did explore -- I took tours here, and in other cities -- London, Paris, Rome, Hong Kong. There are so many places here with so many different kinds of people." Jil started to walk with her mother down the wide walk. Holographic people went around them. "Mother, there is so much history on Earth -- people killed each other, hundreds of years ago, based on the color of their skin. They were all the same -- all human. Hurting each other, killing each other, claiming they were different based on differences in pigmentation. The beliefs they had were so irrational and hateful toward other humans. We never had that sort of history."

Mother put her arm through Jil's. "Are you thinking that is the reason humans evolved to be so accepting of differences?"

"I'm sure it isn't so simple as that. But we do have more in common with them than is apparent, if one spends more time researching their history."

They reached the next corner, and hesitated, looking at a family coming around the corner. A holographic woman picked up a small child, smiling with the boy, the man with her taking the child from her when he proved to be too active for her to hold.

"We love our children," Mother said softly.

"Most of us. There have been so many cases of child abuse -- children were sold as slaves, over the centuries of human history. There haven't been so many examples of that in our history. What is common to both our species has been poverty -- when we have no resources, when we struggle for survival, we become brutal. The wealthy can afford to be indulgent. The children suffer less, when there is enough for everyone."

"The humans are capable of cruelty. Hatred. But also acts of altruism, generosity, affection."

"The captain has been kind to me. Patient." Jil watched another holographic family walking across in front of them. "I remember his concern. I did not recognize it then, but he was concerned for me, even though he was being tortured and starved -- "

Mother stopped walking with her and rested a hand on her shoulder as she wiped away a few tears.

"How many Starfleet officers did my father torture? He enjoyed his work, Mother. He took pride in it. They were people, some of them had children too. Do those children hate us now because of what Father did?"

"I don't know," Mother said quietly. "It would not be unusual for them to -- your father hated the enemies of Cardassia because of what others of the same species have done to Cardassians."

Jil stopped walking. In the mingling people on the walk ahead of them, a couple came down some stairs with a child -- the woman was Bajoran, and the man was human. They were holding hands, something that she knew humans would do with their significant other.

"The Bajorans are sending supplies to us," Jil said. "They are still recovering from the Cardassian occupation themselves. Yet they send us food. They took in our orphans. They took in children that Cardassian soldiers forced Bajoran women to bear, long before the Dominion War, during the Occupation. They did not kill them for having Cardassian parents. Some of the current movement to militarize our government are claiming that the Bajorans and the Federation are only helping us to deceive and control us. What if the real mistake is not judging the species and its actions based on the behavior of individuals, but in hating others? Judging a species based on the behavior of individuals is irrational at its core. Only strong feelings can drive such unthinking, irrational behavior as seeing such devious motivations -- if the Federation truly wanted us to be slaves, if they wanted us to be controllable, they would let us starve. Let our civilization collapse completely. What do we have that they want? Nothing. Why would the Federation want slaves? They do not. We have nothing at all, except our pride that keeps some of us from accepting the help from others. Nothing is motivating the opposition to the Federation except hatred. It blocks their ears. It makes them irrational."

"I know."

"Cadet Carrick probably hates me because I am Cardassian, and his father or mother or perhaps a sibling suffered at the hands of a Cardassian. Nothing I do will convince him otherwise." Jil felt herself stiffening, thinking about other people she had encountered during her time at the Academy who had even said things that indicated they, too, had relatives who had died in conflicts with Cardassians. "He has a right to feel as he does. The Bajorans could hate us. Some of them likely do to this day. I know that some of them oppose the effort to help Cardassia. But we are still getting aid."

Mother had a knowing, sad smile as she slid her arm across Jil's shoulders. "Feeling guilt for what others have done, what others have said, the beliefs that drive others to terrible things, or for your own past ignorance, is irrational. But it is something that is easy for me to comprehend. I think that this, too, is something we have in common -- with the humans, with the Bajorans, with so many other species in our galaxy. I know that I have encouraged you repeatedly to be in Starfleet and that we have talked about how this can be helpful, in showing other Cardassians as well as Starfleet, that we can work together and appreciate each other in spite of the past. My pride in you, however, is in what you are doing -- how much you've grown, become a responsible and ethical young woman. I encouraged you to do this because it was what you wanted, and your motives were honorable. If you decided to leave Starfleet I would still support you, if it were for reasons that are in keeping with the moral and rational integrity you have shown, and not an impulsive or emotional decision."

Jil turned to embrace her mother, and the holographic Federation citizens stepped around them, ignoring the two Cardassians on a San Francisco street.

When Mother stepped back, she gestured up the street. "Show me the Academy, Jil. I want to see what you described in our messages."

=============

Deanna left the bridge. She could have contacted the captain but didn't want to have this conversation with others around. She knew where he was, of course, and strode from the lift to the gym and into the weight room without hesitation.

As usual, he was the only one there -- he didn't know that crew avoided using the weight room when he was scheduled to be there, but it was immaterial. He didn't like being observed while working out, or doing anything out of uniform. He didn't have to know that she had blocked out the weight room schedule on his behalf so no one would be there.

She smiled as he noticed her approaching and slowed his leg curls. He rolled over, sat up and watched her approach. "Commander?"

"The Detapa Council has requested our presence at their meeting tomorrow morning. They want to thank the officers responsible for the salvation of Cardassia."

Jean-Luc responded with the usual calm concern of Captain Picard, his expression a study in subdued and collected anxiety. Of course, as usual, she could tell there was more to it -- a surge of anxiety and frustration, and a little pride.

"That sounds perfectly in line with what a government should do, especially one with a vested interest in maintaining good relations with their benefactors," he said. "And I don't doubt that the men and women of the council are sincere in their gratitude. It will also send the message to the population that all is well with the Federation."

Deanna sighed, giving him a look of frustrated tolerance. "Tom doesn't want to go. I don't really, either. But of course, if we must, we will."

"It isn't like you to say things I already know."

"Have you researched the members of the Detapa Council?"

She knew immediately that he hadn't. He became suspicious and angry the instant she asked. "I know their names."

"You probably didn't want to look further than that, but I talked to Captain Movan, who knows the council. As any Vulcan would, he's made quite a thorough analysis of the situation on Cardassia. The legates have indeed risen to their status legitimately, through elections. The problem is that the civilian population have elected deceitful men. Three of the legates have strong historical ties to individuals who were prominent in the prior government."

"You are about to tell me that Gul Madred is invited to this event, because he has a relative on the council, perhaps. It would explain the tension in your voice."

"Jean-Luc," she exclaimed, sitting on the empty weight bench next to him. She shook her head. "Tom knows him, too."

That had a significant impact. He sat hunched on the bench with his hands gripping the edge of the seat, being angry again.

"What do you think we can do about this?" he said at last.

"We could tell the council the truth. Give them our regrets, but it would be hypocrisy for officers whose lives have been damaged by this man to have him present at an event intended to honor them."

He smiled, appreciating the attempt, but she'd known he wouldn't accept it as an option. "We could. I wonder how long it would take for them to argue the council apart, weighing all the pros and cons of angering Madred versus losing our support."

"I could resort to Klingon custom. Challenge him to a bloody duel in front of everyone."

"Hardly a tactic that's effective on Cardassia. Too straightforward."

"I could poison his drink."

Jean-Luc smirked at it. "I suspect Romulan tactics wouldn't go over well, either. What about Starfleet tactics?"

Deanna shrugged. "I would expect that to be the order of the day. Go and be objective. It has not always been the case that you have been entirely objective, you know."

The smirk diminished to an irritated but mild glare. "Commander."

"I can imagine that it would be in Madred's best interest to avoid behavior that would compromise his standing in his community. Attacking people who have saved Cardassia would not be in his best interests, in the current political climate on Cardassia. However, I suspect that means he will only be more discreet, or perhaps go about his attempt in a more indirect fashion."

"You are assuming he will make an attempt at all."

"Do you suppose Jil would be fearful on your behalf for no reason at all? You've spoken with her directly more than I have. Would a rational and deliberate young lady have irrational expectations?"

That was enough to settle him into a serious mood, and she knew he was considering that carefully.

Before he could respond, she started to fill in the rest of what she expected him to say. "I suppose you are correct, however, that it's not likely he will do anything in full view of the council. We could take security, be careful not to ingest or touch -- "

"Perhaps it's simpler than that."

"Simpler?"

"I could walk up to him and ask him if he intends to harm any of us."

She stared at him in dismay. "To what end?"

"You're an empath. Surely you would be able to tell us whether he answers truthfully."

"You think you will be able to approach him calmly? And if you did, would he even begin to answer it? Cardassians do practice certain disciplines of the mind to circumvent telepathy."

"I don't know. But, it's always an adventure."

The dread formed a large mass in her stomach, at the thought of watching him confront the man who'd almost broken him. "Well, we'll have some time to consider it further. I'm about to beam down to the starbase to meet with Rakai, as I told him I would."

That was enough to distract him. He nodded, his emotions shifting rapidly. "It's generous of him to spend so much time helping you."

"I suppose you could say he's returning a favor."

Jean-Luc smiled again. "He was your client, wasn't he?"

She said nothing, tried not to smile at it. He knew she wasn't going to talk about old clients.

"Well. Greet Dr. Belman for me. I suppose I'm picking up the children, then."

"It shouldn't take more than an hour. I'll set an alarm." She stood, and he did so as well, simultaneously. "You don't appear to be sweaty enough. You have another pint or two to catch up to me today."

Jean-Luc eyed her with a sly expression. "I suppose I should get back to work, then."

Deanna stepped forward, touched his cheek, thought about kissing him -- he watched her sidle away from him and head for the exit. She left the gym thinking about him, and sensing him thinking about her, but he went back to his workout and she headed for the transporter room.

A friendly ensign was at the console in the starbase transporter room, this time, and there were officers walking the sidewalks, in the corridors, calm at least outwardly if a bit anxious internally. Deanna headed across the campus toward the hospital, as that was where she sensed Rakai was -- which was where he should be, of course.

As she came up the stairs, passing an ensign leaving the hospital, the doors slid open silently and Captain Movan emerged, accompanied by three Cardassians. She stared for a few seconds, and guessed that this must be part of the council, as they appeared to be more well dressed than the populace.

"Good afternoon, Captain," she said, moving to the left as if to pass them on the stairs.

"This is Commander Troi, from the Enterprise," the captain said. "She was one of the officers responsible for intervening in the situation. Commander, this is Daran Madred."

Deanna hesitated, not wanting to offend the captain, or cause him to question. The man being introduced felt a sudden increase of interest when Movan mentioned the Enterprise and looked at her with great interest. She gave him the same smile she reserved for men who showed too much interest, a tight, tiny smile accompanied by a brief glare.

"Commander," Madred said, smiling, showing white teeth and gazing at her with appreciation. His mind was smooth, quiet -- something that told her he had strong defenses, indeed, because no one was so placid, not even the Vulcan standing next to him. "Thank you, for your heroism."

"I'm happy to be of service." She glanced at the captain. "I'm sorry, I need to meet with someone."

"Of course," Madred said, as if she'd spoken to him. "Give your captain my regards."

She stared at him, almost giving away her surprise -- the ripple his statement caused in his emotions caught her attention. "You know Captain Picard," she half-asked, letting her curiosity be misconstrued.

"Oh, yes. We are good friends."

Deanna felt the shift more, now that she was focusing, and as she caught the emotion it was as though she slipped behind that smooth surface and caught the thoughts without intending to, and she inhaled sharply -- trying not to give away her dismay or fear, she blinked and thought about Movan, focusing on him for a moment, with his stable shield and his rational, calm presence.

"I suppose," she drawled, taking a moment to consider, breathe, calm, "that one could say that you are intimately acquainted with Captain Picard. Even if the mechanism was an unconventional one."

Now she had Movan's attention; a slender eyebrow flicked upward, briefly. But she regained her minimal smile, and thought about banning Madred to the icy fifth planet of the system next door.

Madred was clearly a student of facial expressions of other species. He detected the change in her face and she saw his reaction, a subtle double-take and a flicker of wariness in his eyes.

"You can be sure that I will give the captain your message," she said softly. "And I'm certain that he will understand it, and return the sentiment."

She moved swiftly up the stairs, giving them no opportunity to respond, and hurried through the doors, which parted automatically for her. She was halfway down the first floor corridor when Rakai emerged from an office.

"You need to help me take apart the memory of something that just happened," she told him.


	12. Chapter 12

Jil admitted the guest with some trepidation, relaxing somewhat when the door opened and she saw Commander Troi. "Sir," she exclaimed, rising from the brown sofa to come to attention.

"At ease. I need to talk to you both. Is your mother here?"

"She's in the bedroom. She should be back any time. Is something wrong?"

Mother returned even as Jil spoke, and looked at the commander seriously. The first officer gestured for them to sit, and turned a chair to sit in herself, facing them, her hands folded in her lap.

"I just returned from the Kamal starbase," the commander said. "While I was there I saw your father, Jil. I learned, from the hospital administrator, that he was there looking for your mother."

"Aunt Jor," Jil exclaimed, furious. "She had to have told him!"

"Perhaps she did. Or perhaps one of his other connections informed him. It doesn't matter, Jil." Mother was so calm about this.

"How can you say that?"

Commander Troi looked at them, her eyes sad. "Cadet," she said quietly.

"Sir."

"I have reason to believe that he is planning to sabotage the Detapa Council, undermine the democratic government, by creating an appearance of the legates conspiring to break away from the Federation. I believe he has the long term plan of guiding Cardassia out of the Federation again."

Jil wasn't surprised -- it would be entirely in keeping with her father's longstanding belief that the Federation was poison to the Cardassian way of life. She knew better than to think the commander could have gotten this information without telepathy, as well.

"Do you know who he's working with on the council?" her mother asked.

The commander exchanged a knowing smile with Mother, and nodded slowly. "If we allow Madred to continue as he plans, there will be a bomb in the capitol building tomorrow morning. Captain Glendenning and I are invited to a meeting, so that the council can thank us for our intervention that saved Cardassia from the K'korll."

"I suppose you read this in his thoughts."

The commander lost her smile and even looked regretful. "It wasn't intentional. I have been experiencing... difficulties with my abilities for a few months. I am an empath, and it's not the same as telepathy. Sometimes I inadvertently find myself slipping into thoughts after strong emotion catches my attention. I did not intend to see his thoughts, but I can't un-know something."

"Is he intending to kill the captain?" Jil asked. "I remember how he spoke of wanting to see him again.... I think he didn't intend to make friends."

"That wasn't his primary goal, but your father hopes that he will also have the fringe benefit of having Captain Picard and other officers in the room when the bomb explodes. And I think he also wants to find you. That's why this came to my attention. The base commander was escorting him out of the hospital, introduced me to him, and he was reacting to my presence."

"Commander, why are you sharing this with us?" Mother asked.

"I cannot act on this in an overt manner. I can't be certain that I know the entire plan. I can do something about the meeting tomorrow easily enough, by having the building scanned for explosives and the room swept for explosives. But I detected only feelings of anger about you, not anything about what he plans to do about you. I don't know if he has anything in motion. I wanted to warn you."

Mother smiled calmly. "Thank you, for your concern. I know that my husband is angry at us, and I suspect he may yet seek vengeance on me for removing his daughter from his influence. He blames me, you know, for Jil joining Starfleet."

"As if I have no mind of my own," Jil spat. "As if I can't see how cruel he is."

"You should be careful, Commander. He is an expert in what he does. He survived the Dominion War by being covert in his alliances."

Commander Troi nodded. "He doesn't have the advantage, this time. He can't move against us openly. Pride can be a weakness. I'll be going -- I have things to do before the end of the shift. You are welcome to stay aboard until the Enterprise leaves orbit."

After the commander had gone, Jil turned to her mother expectantly. The older woman studied her.

"You are going to say you want to help them. Jil, you may know your father well, but I don't believe you have enough experience with the devious side of him -- please think about this carefully."

"I will, Mother. But -- " Jil stared at the viewport for a moment. "What if I could talk to Father? Maybe he would stop this. If I could make him see -- "

"Jil. You told me that you know he will never change. That you understand why he is as he is. Don't let your feelings blind you."

Jil sighed, and stood up. "I'm going to think about this -- I need to take a walk."

============

Deanna went from Jin Arran's quarters to the bridge. Tom and Beverly were in the ready room, seated on the sofa with Jean-Luc, and the three of them looked up at her expectantly.

"What's wrong?" Jean-Luc asked quietly. It was amazing the tension that immediately seized their friends, with those words.

"I spent the hour with Rakai, after confronting Madred on the steps of the hospital. He went there in pursuit of his wife." Deanna sat on the end as Jean-Luc edged in a little to make room. "He's going to try to sabotage the council. Make it look like they are sabotaging the Federation."

Tom went broody. His usual was outright mockery, so sitting and thinking got their attention. "Madred could have delegated the things he did, but he enjoyed the work. The military was quite happy to send him victims. Pretty sure he is not happy with the current regime, so it wouldn't surprise me a bit. But that plan sounds awfully straightforward, for him."

Jean-Luc sighed and looked nearly as introspective as Tom. "It does, however, he is not currently in a position of power, and likely doesn't have the influence he once had, to be manipulative on a broader scale -- and it doesn't mean he doesn't have other plans in motion."

Beverly listened to this with growing apprehension, and Deanna sensed the oncoming response, so sat quietly and waited rather than respond to Jean-Luc as she wanted. "Madred -- the same one?" Beverly looked at Jean-Luc, concerned in the soft way of a friend remembering that terrible thing she didn't really completely understand. No doubt, she recalled the damage to his body, as she had repaired it. Deanna knew she hadn't seen any of his counseling notes, and doubted he had told Beverly much, if anything, about the torture he'd endured.

The look Jean-Luc gave Beverly said volumes about how disturbed he still was about it, and how little he wanted to talk about it with them in the room. The anger surprised Deanna. "Yes."

Beverly's immediate reaction was to look at Tom in growing horror. "Tom, were you...."

"Madred is not what he was," Deanna said, purposefully interrupting. "But he's trying to be. He wants to return to his former glory and bring his fellow guls with him. There aren't many of them left. So many are dead. He has a medical condition, something to do with a childhood illness, that leaves him in pain often. He hates the council legates -- all of them, he views them as weak and reminders of how the Cardassian Union has fallen into ruin. He's horribly depressed and it's affecting his cognitive functioning, and a large part of it is missing his children -- Jil was not the only one to disown him, there are others who have stopped communicating with him. But she is the loss he feels the most, because she joined Starfleet, and he knows she is on your vessel. I have the bridge keeping use of the transporter restricted to Starfleet officers only unless previously authorized by a senior officer."

"Jil?" Beverly echoed.

"The first Cardassian in Starfleet," Deanna replied. They hadn't talked about her with their friends. "She's Madred's daughter. She's determined to solidify the relationship between the Federation and Cardassia, and she looks up to Jean-Luc."

Tom stared at them in complete disbelief now, and Deanna wasn't sure why. He said nothing, however. Neither did Jean-Luc say a word. He was back to ruminating with an undercurrent of anger.

"We should go to the meeting tomorrow," she said, returning the focus to the present problem. "Take precautions to prevent what we suspect will happen."

"Can you look at what he's thinking?" Tom asked. "Like, right now?"

Deanna frowned. "Tom!"

"Seriously. You're not right in front of him, you could check what he's -- "

"You're expecting her to violate her ethics," Jean-Luc broke in, scandalized on her behalf. "You only get to do that once, in a lifetime."

Deanna didn't want a review of their efforts against Section 31. She attempted to reassure, instead. "Tom, you don't need to be so afraid of Madred. He isn't out to get you, or anyone else. He wants to rid Cardassia of the Federation -- he'd rather see people starve than accept help from the Federation."

Tom never glared at her, yet he was, suddenly.

"If you turned off the implant, how much anxiety would you be feeling right now?"

He looked away, his hands clenching. She could sense his headache, the throb of anger, the tension -- as she observed his feelings it was as though she could touch them, they were so palpable, and she hated to see him feeling this way. Nothing ruffled Tom Glendenning but obviously he had been traumatized, just as Jean-Luc had, and never dealt with it in some meaningful way. Before she realized it she reached, mentally, and brushed his mind gently as if reaching with her hand to smooth down a child's hair, instinctively trying to soothe.

Tom's reaction was immediate and wholly unexpected. He flinched, shoving himself back against the couch, and sat poised as if he might leap up and run away. Beverly had been leaning away from him, shocked by what was going on with him, and now she tentatively put a hand on his arm.

"Tom, what is it?"

"I don't know," he said quietly. He looked up at Deanna again, without hostility now. "Did you just do something?"

Deanna covered her cheeks with her hands, trying not to cry. "I'm sorry. I keep doing things before I can stop myself. I only wanted to help," she whispered.

"I think you probably did."

She raised her eyes to see a confused, surprised little wrinkle in his forehead, a wavering smile -- Tom shrugged.

"Helped how?"

"It just doesn't feel the same. And I just turned off the implant completely, and it's still gone."

Deanna noticed Beverly's surprised smile, and Jean-Luc's wide eyes -- Tom ran his fingers through his short hair, one of his nervous tics, and relaxed. Jean-Luc glanced at the faces of their friends and smiled as well.

Deanna covered her eyes and tried to slow her breathing, slow her thoughts. What was going on with her? She shouldn't be able to affect other people at all!

Jean-Luc's hand on her thigh brought her back from the anxiety. As his palm slid along her pants leg she refocused and felt him through the bond, his curiosity and concern, and she tried to be calm once more.

"You're not losing control," he said softly.

"If I don't know what I'm doing how am I in control?" she blurted, shocked at the sound of her own voice. Somehow she'd started to cry without noticing. How deep in her thoughts she'd been.

"Maybe it's silly but I'd sooner trust you out of control than most people while they're in control," Tom said, sounding more like himself.

"Perhaps we should contact your friend Rakai and have him help us understand this better?"

Deanna acquiesced, and it led to Rakai suggesting that they meet in sickbay. Jean-Luc gave deLio instructions to pass on to the transporter room, and they headed out from the bridge.

The headache started behind her eyes. While she was pressing the heels of her hands into her eye sockets, Jean-Luc slipped an arm across her shoulders. "I see we have overworked our neurons," he said. "Another headache."

"It feels like someone's driving needles into my brain," she said.

"So you did something significant. That only happens when you're working too hard."

Mengis greeted them and was running scans when Rakai arrived, accompanied by a security officer. He went straight to Deanna, sitting on the biobed, and looked up in her face, concerned. He didn't say anything.

"What's wrong?" Beverly said, unable to contain herself. Mengis passed her his tricorder.

Deanna looked at Jean-Luc, standing at the foot end of the biobed, arms crossed. "Nothing's wrong," he said. "Something's different."

"I'm giving you an analgesic for the head pain," Mengis said. He reached up to press the hypo against her throat.

Rakai asked telepathically for an explanation of what she had experienced. Deanna shared the memory with him, and it shocked him. They spent a few moments studying it together and he turned to Tom, who had backed over to the next biobed to lean against it, the picture of a relaxed starship captain.

"Everything as expected?" Jean-Luc asked.

"No," Deanna said quietly. "Rakai thinks I'm paranoid. He said I did something I'm not supposed to be able to do."

"You tend to do that," Jean-Luc said.

"I'm going to guess she changed how I feel about the past," Tom said, hopping up to sit on the bed he leaned against. "I have a suspicion that her neurosurgeon friend is rubbing off on her."

Rakai grinned up at Deanna, and she knew he saw what she saw in Tom -- the implant was a dark empty place in his mind, but the mind outside the implant was active, intelligent, and imbued with all the things that made Tom unique. Rakai could tell that she trusted him, and Tom was fond of her.

Rakai showed her as he saw -- the difference between Tom's mind before and after what she'd done, changes in the cerebral cortex and the amygdala among others.

The words were accompanied by the understanding he had of the changes. Deanna took a moment to assimilate the information. She gazed at Tom, wondering.

"What?" he asked.

"Can you tell me why talking about Madred is so upsetting to you?"

Beverly turned to watch Tom intently -- he shrugged. "It's not. I mean, I know I was, before, but it's not now. I think you fixed it."

"But I can't," she exclaimed, waving her hands, catching herself and trying not to continue hysterically gesturing. "It's not possible."

"Isn't it what Betazoid neurosurgeons do?" Beverly asked.

"But I'm not a neurosurgeon!"

< It is not the same. I could not do what you did -- I am not an empath. > Rakai turned to Mengis, who apparently had been included in his telepathic message, as well as Beverly and Tom, who looked stunned. < I can only see damage and fix it, not emotions. >

"I can't understand," she began, then turned to look at Rakai. "Why did this happen? How did I do this?"

< You were the one who intervened when we arrived -- you were able to fend off the control of aliens. I was not immune to their control but you were. It may be time to stop making assumptions about your abilities. >

"We should let her discuss this further with Dr. Belman," Jean-Luc said. "It's time to go get the children."

"Tom and I can go," Beverly said. She shut the tricorder she was holding, glanced at Rakai, and turned to Jean-Luc. "You should stay here with her."

"I should," Jean-Luc echoed.

"Well -- you showed me what Dr. Leral's report said, about the two of you. If it were my sickbay, I'd want to have both of you here, to help me figure out what's going on with Deanna. Because it looks to me like she's having trouble understanding it, and who knows, she might need some reassurance from her husband in the middle of all this?" Beverly smiled at Deanna, touched her hand, and turned to go. Tom followed obediently after a sheepish shrug.

Deanna folded her hands in her lap and stared at the floor.

"Give us a minute," Jean-Luc said quietly. She heard retreating footsteps. Then a hand, on her shoulder. "Dee?"

"I guess it's too obvious I'm feeling overwhelmed," she said.

He leaned on the biobed next to her and sighed. "I know you're having a hard time when you're blocking me out this much."

"Sometimes that's unintentional. I was focusing on Rakai. I didn't realize...."

"Is Beverly right, that I need to be here?"

Her first impulse was to say no -- she knew she would be able to manage. But she looked him in the eye, slipped her arm through his, and rested her head on his shoulder. "I would like you to stay. If you have the time."

Jean-Luc put an arm around her and she felt warmth and love wash over her like a wave. "I have the time."

"I don't want to take you away from -- "

"Stop. We have the time."

Deanna closed her eyes, blocking out the sterile surroundings, and spent a moment being with him, before sitting up to invite the doctors back into the room. Jean-Luc pulled away, returning to his usual reserve in front of the crew, but stayed close by at the foot of her bed.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

Jil lost track of how long she had been walking. She found herself in a corridor on deck ten, strolling down toward sickbay, thinking furiously about what she might possibly do about her father. She glanced up as she found herself approaching two officers, and froze in the middle of the corridor.

"Captain?"

The two halted -- the commander was a redhead in medical blue, and the captain a tall blond human with graying at the temples. He smiled at her, and she almost stumbled backward in shock.

"Tom?"

"This is the cadet Dee was talking about," he told his companion. "Cadet, this is Dr. Crusher."

Jil struggled to understand what was happening. "You were dead. I saw you die! My father's men -- "

The man sobered quickly, stepped forward with his hands open wide. "Settle down, Cadet. Take a -- "

"You didn't tell me -- you helped Commander Troi save us. You stood watch with me at the hospital. You didn't tell me -- how are you alive? I was there when you were tortured to death! I was eight years old, my father brought me with him sometimes, and he -- "

The horrified look on the doctor was what finally jarred her to collect herself and take a breath. Tom watched her calmly, with his hands on his hips. She felt like he might be studying her.

"I'm sorry," Jil said at last. "Thank you, for helping Cardassia. Thank you so much for being there at the hospital. I don't know what we would have done without you."

"You're welcome." He smiled faintly. "Your father may have been good at his job, but he's got a pretty limited understanding of what it takes to kill a human. He's also really good at underestimating the intelligence of others. You being a good example of that. If you'll excuse us, we're supposed to be somewhere in a minute. See you around, Cadet."

They walked off, the doctor giving her a sympathetic look before turning to take the captain's arm as if clinging to him for reassurance. Jil turned to walk a circuit of the deck to the next lift, too anxious to join them in the closer one.

 

==============

 

 Deanna and Jean-Luc left the transporter room after seeing Rakai off, and started the journey back to quarters, slowly. "You're okay?" Jean-Luc asked.

"Still feeling shocked. What Rakai said makes sense, but it isn't easy to adjust to the idea that I'm able to influence the minds of others at all."

"It doesn't sound as though you'll be able to inflict damage. Making memories easier to bear sounds quite the opposite. There are a few things you could address for me, in fact."

She gave him a look of disbelief, as they came to the lift and waited for it. "I could spend the rest of my life addressing things for other officers. But the process makes me so tired -- if Greg hadn't given me analgesics and a mild stimulant you'd be carrying me home."

"I suppose I could do that regardless," he said in that dry, affectionate manner he'd always had. The doors opened and they entered the turbolift car, and rode up to deck eight.

Tom and Beverly were seated facing each other on the couch, obviously having a serious discussion, and looked up at them as they came in. "Kids are in bed," Tom said, jerking a thumb toward their bedrooms. "You okay, Dee?"

"Yes. A little less alarmed, a little more informed. What's going on?" She could tell the kids were asleep so went to sit next to Tom. She watched Jean-Luc bring hot cups of tea from the replicator -- herbal, of course.

"Tom never told me he'd been tortured by Madred," Beverly said. "Your cadet recognized him in the corridor when we were on the way to get the kids."

"Not something you like talking about," Tom said in self-defense.

"Of course not." Deanna took the cup of chamomile from Jean-Luc as he sat down with her. 

"Everything all right, Deanna?" Beverly asked pointedly.

"Rakai helped me understand what was going on with me, after he figured it out himself. I'm sure there must be a reason for all of it, but no one can really say for certain. I seem to be able to focus on disturbing memories and change how the brain processes them."

Beverly kept staring at her, with an interesting array of emotions beneath her calm exterior. Deanna put a hand to her forehead, wishing her head wouldn't ache so. The analgesics only took off the edge.

"If we're doing this thing tomorrow, you should get some rest," Tom said.

"Are you going?" Beverly said, the question vibrating with anxiety.

Deanna turned to Tom as he turned to her. "So, you wear the pointy boots to kick him with, I'll bring the mace and the fists of fury. And the manacles."

"You really are getting more subtle with age," she replied. "I expected at least a phaser rifle and sonic grenades."

"We're not at risk if we go," Jean-Luc said wearily. "The real risk is letting his plan continue without interference. I had deLio meet with the base commander to discuss security. They are going to the capital first thing in the morning, to do a sweep and install unobtrusive sensors to monitor as people enter the building."

"He's going to expect all of that."

"I know, Tom, it's all part of the game. You know how Cardassians like games. We don't have to play them."

 "Madred will want to taunt you. He loves that game."

Jean-Luc snorted. "He is a starving six-year-old boy roaming the streets searching for food. Not a powerful man. He wants to be. He wants to bend your belief, your thoughts, to his. He only has as much control as you give him."

Beverly was furious. Deanna laid a hand on Jean-Luc's knee and smiled at their friend. "It's not immediately obvious to doctors who have to put you back together, but I know what you're saying, Jean-Luc. He won't have the upper hand with me."

"All I know is if you are so strongly putting up a front in terms of the mental pain, ignoring how badly injured you were, then he must have been a very good torturer," Beverly exclaimed. "Making you forget how much work had to go into regenerating your soft tissue and the horrible state of dehydration and starvation you were in."

"You should not go, Beverly," Jean-Luc said. "He would feed off your ire on our behalf."

Deanna's eyes started to hurt. "We all need sleep. Tom and I will go, and you should consider remaining on the ship, Jean-Luc. I think it will be more helpful if you do."

"You're afraid I'm going to have some sort of reaction to him."

She shook her head, rising from the couch. "I don't want you to be a distraction. I want to be focused -- if we expect to obtain more information about his plans, seeing him in the presence of the Council is a good opportunity to determine alliances. His focus would be on you if you were there."

"All right."

"That was easier than I thought," Tom exclaimed. "Here I thought you would have to argue him down."

"If there's one thing I've learned, it's how to choose my battles. Good night, Tom. Beverly, it'll be all right -- see you in the morning." Jean-Luc followed Deanna toward the bedroom, not even waiting to see their friends leave.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I've been swamped. And it will be busy for a while still. But I'll be back.

Jil lay in the bed in the second bedroom of her mother's quarters, and stared at the ceiling. Rational thought had ceased some hours before; now she numbly wanted to sleep and still felt agitated.

The door opened, and her mother came to sit on the edge of the bed. "Are you all right?"

"I'm okay. Why?"

"I expected you to come out for breakfast." Mother put a hand on her shoulder. "What's going on, Jil?"

"Remember the time I saw Father kill an officer?"

Mother's mouth went tight, the way it did when she disapproved of something. "You were seven. You had nightmares for weeks."

"He didn't die -- the officer who helped us at the hospital is the same man. Tom -- I don't think he recognized me. But when I saw him without the makeup I realized it was him. Father had him thrown out in a trash heap bleeding -- he told me the man deserved to die, that he was an enemy who had killed many Cardassians. He told me the man was dead."

"You told me you never wanted to see your father at work again," Mother said. "I remember it well. It was when I started to plan and prepare to leave him. I told him many times before that I didn't want you to see that kind of thing."

Jil sat up. Her eyes burned for lack of sleep, and her head hurt. She was suddenly thirsty. "Mother, I want to talk to Father."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"I never told him that I think his treatment of those people was reprehensible."

"It's not going to matter. He's a patriot, Jil."

"No! He never had a thought for Cardassia. He simply enjoyed being cruel."

Mother sighed. "You're nearly as stubborn, believing without thinking with a clear head. He isn't going to listen to you any more than he listened to me, my dear."

Jil let the matter drop, for the moment, going to have breakfast with her mother. But she decided she wanted to talk to someone impartial about it. Or at least, more impartial than Mother.

 

====================

 

Deanna watched in the mirror as Jean-Luc finished pinning her braid in place. He'd been quiet all morning, getting ready to go, waking the kids and getting them breakfast. He'd left the door open so they could hear Yves talking to Fidele and Amy while doing her hair.

"Don't go," he said softly.

She leaned slightly, turning her head to look up at him, and he let his fingers rest on her shoulders lightly and looked down at her with the serious expression she knew well. "The captain wants me to go. Sorry."

It was the reassurance he wanted, that she understood how much he didn't want to see her hurt. "You will take deLio."

"I would have to order him not to go. He's already there, remember."

"Take him with you everywhere. Tom, too."

Taking his hand, she brought it to her cheek. "You won't have to worry."

"There are so many things I don't have to do," he murmured, letting the backs of his fingers glide down her face. "And yet, doing them has become a way of life."

When she stood he stepped into her arms, and vice versa. He held the sides of her face and kissed her forehead, then wrapped his arms around her tightly. "I need you to come back."

"You know, at some point, I'm going to want sex again, so I'm fairly certain I'll come home."

His arms tightened. "Dee."

 "I know."

He didn't let go until Amy shrieked, and they had to come back out to verify she wasn't melting down -- instead, she was smiling gleefully and trying to catch a pinwheel Yves was waving around, just out of her reach, teasing her with it and yanking it higher whenever she reached for it. Deanna watched Jean-Luc reach out as Amy changed whims, charged across the room at him, and as he caught their little girl and swung her up, she went out the door, left them laughing together and headed down the corridor. She sensed a bit of dismay from Jean-Luc at her abrupt departure, and sent a warm rush of affection his way as she entered the lift. It was easier for her to just go. 

She met Tom and Beverly in the corridor outside the transporter room. Tom was, as usual, smiling and appearing as relaxed as if they were heading to Risa for the weekend. "Ready?"

"Yes. Are you going to talk to Jean-Luc?"

Beverly shot a glance at Tom, before giving Deanna a nervous smile. "I figured we may as well wait together. May as well be anxious together rather than apart."

"It'll be fine," Tom said softly, dropping a hand on Beverly's shoulder. 

"We'll see you in a few hours," Deanna said. "He's at home with the kids."

She stood with Tom for a minute and watched her friend head for the lift, after giving Tom a hug. Deanna turned with him and entered the transporter room. The attendant had the coordinates already, and they materialized on a courtyard in front of a large building. It was another gray day -- Cardassia was not, she realized, ever going to be a bright and sunny place. There were a few people around, walking to or from the building, and as she and Tom approached the steps Deanna noticed they were getting a few hostile glares. 

"Not like everyone has to be nice to us, but it would be nice to have a smile once in a while," Tom muttered.

Deanna snorted at it. "You are an optimist, aren't you?"

"Is it that bad?"

 "I've never been to a world so uniformly depressed," she said softly as he pulled open the door. They found themselves in a cavernous tiled foyer once inside the large double doors. Deanna supposed the Cardassian in a typical black uniform holding open another door directly opposite must be waiting for them, so walked with Tom across the black and gray checkerboard.

The council chamber was much like so many others of its kind, large and likely as ornate as it could be, given the hard times Cardassia had fallen into. She knew the entire event was being broadcast, but couldn't see any obvious cameras. The six legates that made up the council were at a long table in the middle of the room, and stood as they entered. So did a dozen others -- there were seats at either end of the room. They were introduced around -- Deanna kept a list of names and tried to match them to faces, tried not to notice Madred waiting in the group on the right, staring at her. She wondered if he would recognize Tom.

As Legate Renarr introduced them around, Deanna found sincere appreciation in most of those present, sometimes begrudging. But Madred and a few of the other guests were polite outside, seething inside, and she kept her polite smile in place just the same. When Renarr said Tom's name and rank, introducing him to the man standing next to him, Madred almost lost the composure -- she sensed the sudden spike of shock, and the intense interest, and paid close attention to Madred while Tom said something politically correct to the legate. 

Madred's turn came, and he smiled at them, as they were introduced. When his eyes met Deanna's she had one of those moments that she had come to dread -- a spark of connection and images flooded in. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Commander," he said in a mellow, happy tone of voice that was so incongruent with what was going on behind his smiling face. 

"Likewise, Mr. Madred. Your daughter is a credit to you."

The statement, as she had wanted it to, caught him off guard. More anger, and despair, joined the waves of distraught anger already emanating from him. 

"I think it's impressive, how you came up from the streets to such prominence in the military, survived the Dominion War, and are once more in a position of influence," she continued, and the carefully-worded sentence triggered a range of dismayed emotional reactions in him -- without intending to, she made note of all the flashes of emotion and found herself reacting to the pain automatically, before she recognized it she had done it. Within seconds, Madred stopped being angry in the manner of someone who had nursed the old pain into long-standing hatred, and started to feel astonished.

Deanna turned to the legate, to look at him expectantly and give her a way to distract herself from a reaction to Madred. Renarr had an expression that matched his discomfort with the brief exchange she'd had with Madred, which told her that Renarr knew full well what Madred was, and anticipated negative consequences in return for her brash statements. Renarr turned to introduce her to some old man named Karell, and as she took the two steps to face Karell and Tom followed, she monitored Madred further.

Over the next half an hour, she endured a presentation of some garish medals and a short speech reassuring them that their heroism was appreciated by the citizens of Cardassia, then polite applause. She had sensed deLio's presence in the building from the beginning but as Renarr began parting remarks Deanna saw the L'norim slip into the room and come to attention just inside the door.

Tom took her arm gently, startling her, and she realized she must have started to drift a little. "Thank you," he said to all present, turning to include them all with his eyes. "We were doing our duty, of course. And we will again, if we are needed."

Deanna nodded and renewed her smile as the Council applauded once more, quietly, and the party started to break up -- people were slipping out the side doors, departing through the main door, and Tom tucked his hand through her elbow and escorted her toward deLio.

< What's wrong? > she thought at him. His hand tightened around her arm.

As they reached deLio, Tom muttered, "I think the bomb is in the floral arrangement on the table. Don't know where the trigger is."

deLio pushed open the door and the three of them strolled across the foyer. Deanna glanced back through the slowly-closing door -- there were two people left in the room. Surely if Madred intended to do anything, he would have done so with everyone in the room?

"I know, weird," Tom said, and she glanced at him curiously. "Why it didn't go off already."

"I'm not sure," she said.

"We should return to the Enterprise immediately," deLio said. They reached the outer doors and pushed through them, jogging down the five steps to the sidewalk. "The captain will want to be briefed."

Deanna stepped off the last stair and hesitated; she turned to look up at Madred, standing there pushing the door half-open to gaze down at them. The shock he'd felt earlier had worn off somewhat. He felt disoriented now.

"Commander," he called.

Tom gave deLio one of the firm glances that only starship captains managed, and spun to jump up two steps to stand between her and the old Cardassian. Madred slowed, hesitated on the top step, looking down.

"You, Captain, are a surprise," he said quietly.

"I think you can understand why I wouldn't let you get any closer," Tom said, surprising her with his almost-pleasant tone. Cardassians weren't the only ones who could manage deceptive calm.

Madred's feelings shifted in a curious manner. It was, Deanna thought, as though he habitually responded to such situations in a particular manner, but the mechanism wasn't there any longer. This too was disorienting to him. He stared at Tom for a few seconds longer. "You have nothing to fear from me."

Tom crossed his arms as if facing down a petulant teen. "Now, why would a human-hating gul who tortured me expect me to believe that?"

Madred gave them a tiny smile. His eyes shifted to Deanna, and she gazed at him, unsmiling and unblinking. "Cardassia is a member of the Federation. Why would I harm you?"

"Tom, let's go," Deanna said. He half-turned and studied her from the corner of his eye, likely not wanting to turn his back on the Cardassian.

"I had hoped that you would relay a message to my daughter, Commander," Madred exclaimed.

"I am sure you would be able to send her the message from any terminal," Deanna said. "Tom."

"All right." Tom stepped down and to her right, flanking her opposite deLio, and she walked away from Madred, away from the building. When they had moved a distance from the steps deLio tapped his badge and hailed the ship.

"Commander," Madred called again. Deanna glanced back as deLio requested beamout. Madred stood at the bottom of the steps, and was looking at her. She sensed no malice -- only sadness, dismay, and more disorientation. Then the transporter beam caught her.

They materialized on the Enterprise, facing deOrda, the transporter chief. deLio nodded to the other L'norim and turned to Deanna.

"Thank you, deLio," she said. "Have you any news about the investigation into the whereabouts of the missing officers?"

"I will be contacting the away teams I sent shortly, to get an update."

"I'll see you on the bridge shortly, then, after I speak to the captain."

It was enough to release deLio to walk ahead of them, and Tom strolled with her silently as far as the lift. Once they were riding up to deck eight, he exhaled noisily.

"What the hell, Dee? What did you do?"

Deanna made an in-depth survey of the crack in the turbolift door.

"You did what you did to me. You healed the bastard somehow. He stopped being a seething, plotting asshole. He looked positively confused about it."

The door opened on deck eight. She took a step as the headache flared into being, suddenly, and then everything fuzzed to white and she heard in the distance a distraught cry, and within seconds she was blinking, and Beverly's fierce face was the only thing she saw when she opened her eyes.

"What happened?" came Jean-Luc's strident demand, somewhere to her left. Beverly's focus went to the tricorder, and she scanned across Deanna's forehead with a sensor wand. It occurred to Deanna that she sensed nothing -- she felt detached from her body, actually, as if floating separately from it, and that frightened her.

"She didn't say. I didn't see anything. All I saw was this little twitch, when the legate introduced her to Madred, and then nothing. They exchanged words, sure, but nothing happened. The ceremony went on, and then everyone left. Nothing notable happened." Tom sounded frightened, too, which doubled Deanna's fear. She tried to turn her head.

"You said she walked into the lift on her own," Beverly said. "Did she say anything before she passed out?"

"Just this distressed little yelp. I picked her up and ran her in here. Is she...."

"Deanna," Beverly said.

But Deanna couldn't keep her eyes open, and it was hard to focus. Something seemed to be pulling her away.

The presence of her husband flooded her, bringing her back from wherever she was starting to go. She clung to him and let him soothe her, as it started to feel like she had lost contact with her body. Eventually her eyes opened and she found herself looking up at him, into his concerned eyes. She heard a series of beeps, fingers on a panel surely, and ignored it.  

She wondered, and he supplied the answer at once -- she'd been apparently unconscious, for too long, and they were now in sickbay. And he'd resorted to something he hadn't believed would work, simply sitting and focusing on her, and she'd responded. At last.

Deanna sat up and saw at once that it was night; the lights in main sickbay were at full intensity, but she noticed the time on the panel at her left. No one was immediately evident, other than Dr. Mengis, standing next to Jean-Luc's chair. She touched her chest, the front of the sickbay gown, and her hair, loose over her shoulders, and looked at them in concerned confusion.

"You overextended yourself," Mengis said. "I consulted with Rakai. He was here earlier. He recommended that the captain continue to try to reach you."

She opened her mouth. Jean-Luc raised a hand, stopping her, and said, "You're staying here. Beverly's at home with the kids. It was the only way to keep her from hovering here."

"But I'm not...."

Jean-Luc gave Mengis a look, and the doctor left. He turned back to Deanna, sober, taking her hand. She slid off the biobed and came to rest in his arms, sitting in his lap. "I'm sorry. I lost control of it. I can't seem to stop -- it's as though the more trauma someone has, the more automatically and immediately I respond."

"Tom said you did that to Madred. And he didn't set off the bomb. deLio went back, picked up the floral arrangement Tom thought was the bomb. Close examination revealed that it was -- chemical agents with a mechanism that was designed to be undetectable to the usual scans. It was supposed to be set off by a remote device but that never happened. I have to wonder about the coincidence -- you do as you did, and it must have distracted Madred to the point that he did not do as he planned, likely to leave the room at some point and trigger the detonation as he did so. That would be my guess."

"I can't keep doing this," Deanna exclaimed, leaning on him and clinging. "I have to get control of myself."

"I know. I won't watch you do this to yourself repeatedly -- if you can't manage to control it with Rakai's help, I think we'll have to resign and leave Starfleet, take you home and raise the kids as civilians."

It wasn't what either of them wanted to do -- she sensed his dismay at the thought, but also his determination.

"I'll talk to Rakai in the morning," she said, sitting back to look at him.

He smiled grimly. "Yes. He's already coming to check on you. He's very worried, too, you know. Lie down, get some sleep."

"But you -- "

"No. Lie down."

She had to. She was quite exhausted, and he wasn't budging. So she watched him through her eyelashes until she fell asleep, and he was likely doing the same slumped in the chair uncomfortably, but that wasn't new, either.


	15. Chapter 15

Jil sat at the desk in her empty quarters. Still technically on leave, she could be there while her roommate was elsewhere on duty, and her mother was in her guest quarters.

She continued to think about her father. Trying to talk to the captain had failed -- the watch currently under way was deLio's, and the security chief had informed her that the captain was currently occupied and unavailable, as was the first officer. There were no other people on board she trusted enough to discuss this with.

Unexpectedly, the door opened. Ma'grill entered and stood for a moment in shock, finding her there. "Jil?"

"I'm trying to decide -- " Jil considered, and decided. "I'm thinking about calling my father."

Ma'grill closed her mouth. "Why is that difficult?"

"I haven't spoken to him in years. Mother moved us away from him when I was a child. He tortured Starfleet officers during the war with the Federation, and he would take me to work with him. I -- "

Ma'grill's expression tended to stay the same, stoic and barely fluctuating. But she seemed to be looking at her with sympathy. "Well, if you are here, and he is on the planet, he can't really do anything other than talk."

"You're right." Jil watched Ma'grill change out of the stained uniform jacket into a clean one. After another sympathetic look, Ma'grill left the room. 

"Computer, can I connect to a civilian on Cardassia through the communication system?"

"Affirmative."

"I would like to open a channel to Daran Madred."

"Channel opened. Waiting for a response."

Jil had a nervous knot in her stomach. When her father's voice responded with a greeting, in a casual, inviting tone, the knot intensified. She froze, unable to respond.

"Hello?" he said after a moment of silence.

"Hello," she said finally, quietly.

"Jil?" The anxiety and hope in his voice made the knot squirm. 

"Yes."

"I am so happy to hear your voice," he said, the words warm and infused with joy. "I was so worried about you, for so long. So angry that your mother kept you away."

"I stayed away. I wanted to be away." Being able to say that much freed the anger, that had been with her for so long. "I saw you kill a man. I saw you torture men. It didn't matter who they were, you made them suffer -- they weren't animals, no one deserves to be left bleeding to death in a pile of garbage. I didn't understand when I was little, until I saw the blood -- you didn't listen to Mother when she told you not to show me that. You didn't listen to me, when I cried. You didn't comfort me -- you told me the same thing as always, that enemies of Cardassia deserved to die, and you expected me to be like you. Unaffected by their misery. I can't be like you. Not listening, not trusting others, it's been killing Cardassia, all along. Killing the Bajorans was killing Cardassia. Causing them pain was killing ourselves. When we hurt others, we turn ourselves into -- we become dead inside. If you really loved me you would listen, and stop being so cruel. You don't love me. You don't love Cardassia, or Mother, or your sister. You can't. After I saw you torture Captain Glendenning and leave him bleeding, I had nightmares that you were killing me. I know now -- you really were killing me, all along, with every misery you inflicted on a Starfleet officer. Trying to convince other Cardassians to view the Federation as an enemy and refuse their help -- it will kill Cardassia."

She tried so hard, so hard, to not sob as she said it, but as she gained momentum and the anger spilled into the words, and by the last sentence she was shouting -- she had to stop, to breathe in, and hearing the sob as she did so kept her from launching into another tirade. 

There was a noise -- it might have been a sob, but it was cut off abruptly the instant it occurred. "Jil -- "

"I don't want to hear all the reasons that the enemies of Cardassia should die," she exclaimed, leaping in to prevent the lecture. "I don't want to hear hollow apologies. Reassurances. Lies. I'm not seven, unable to see reality, unable to understand. I am a Starfleet officer, and unless you are willing to accept that I don't want to hear another word. I don't hate you, I don't wish you ill. I don't want anything from you. I simply don't want to keep my opinion from you and let you believe any longer that it was Mother's fault that I am not speaking to you. Leave her alone, leave me alone. We want Cardassia to thrive! To be alive with laughter and to leave poverty and misery in the past. All your way, the old ways, brought us was more misery -- it shouldn't be the military standing on the backs of the people. All of us should have what we need. The Federation wants to help us, Bajor wants to help us, and I want them to, until Cardassia can be prosperous and successful on its own. We need help to rescue us from our own past. We don't need any more bodies in trash heaps!"

She brought her hand down on the panel, hard, and the light signifying the open channel went out. Jil sat and trembled for a while, steadying her breathing, until she thought she could return to Mother without crying.

 

===============

 

Deanna woke on the sofa in her quarters, to find herself alone. She sighed and let herself be limp, beneath the blanket she'd pulled over herself just an hour ago. It was relaxing to be alone for a while. The morning had been spent with Rakai, who had left her to rest for a while himself. She stretched a little and tested herself -- the mental shielding she had learned to leave in place without conscious effort still held. But she sensed Beverly returning, and admitted her friend before the annunciator went off.

Beverly came in as Deanna sat up, putting her feet on the floor. "Feeling any better?"

"Still a little tired. It's surprising how much it can take out of you." 

Beverly sat next to her and gave her a look -- she was emanating an odd mixture of affection, sadness, and wonderment that puzzled Deanna. 

"What are you looking at me that way for?"

Beverly tucked her hair behind her ears, an expression of anxiety that came up as she fought for words. "I was just thinking about how strange it is that you'd be having so much trouble with empathy and telepathy, after all this time."

Deanna narrowed her eyes at the blatant lie. When Beverly noticed she looked away immediately, at the floor, her cheeks a little red. Deanna frowned.

"After you got back yesterday, when Tom carried you in, I was -- I expected Jean-Luc to be concerned. I didn't expect -- "

Silence. When she didn't seem able to continue Deanna said, "You were uncomfortable? Afraid?"

Beverly rolled her eyes, shaking her head, still unable to look her in the eye. "I've never seen Jean-Luc so... He just wasn't the man I know."

"I'm afraid I don't see why his concern would be such a disturbing thing."

"You were unconscious, and when Tom brought you in it was as though suddenly you were the only thing in the universe. I know he's not comfortable with public displays of affection. I know he has to be different, with you, one on one -- but it caught me off guard."

"I suppose that must have been disconcerting for you to see him be so nurturing," Deanna said.

Beverly leaned back on the sofa, arms crossed. Her emotions settled, as the moments passed. Finally she said, "It just isn't what I'm used to seeing from him. He's never been so openly emotional -- well. I can't say that. About work, yes. Archaeology, and about -- Can we forget we had this conversation?"

"If you want." Deanna let her eyes close, and tucked her hands under the blanket in her lap. She opened her eyes when Beverly noticed and reacted to it with a little dismay.

"I shouldn't have come," Beverly said, starting to rise, but Deanna put a hand on her arm.

"It's all right. I can't sleep all day."

"Maybe you should. You scared us, including Mengis." Beverly leaned to look her in the eye. "Deanna, was Mengis right? Did Jean-Luc really bring you out of that coma?"

Deanna had to hesitate, regain composure so as not to give away how that startled her. No one had called it a coma, in her hearing. "You know about the bond."

Now Beverly was back around to feeling a frightened sort of awe. "I'm having a little difficulty with this, Dee. Nothing about this is making sense in terms of what I thought I knew about Betazoids."

"I'm not going to attempt to quantify anything. Expectations don't work, with us."

"Have you figured out how to understand this problem you're having, with becoming totally exhausted?"

"I think Rakai and I made a lot of progress in understanding and controlling it. He thinks I can develop much better control, use this healing ability without burning myself out by developing a way of limiting the energy expended. Slowing down the process and also, doing it in sickbay, while being monitored so if for some reason I lose control the process can be stopped or the aftereffects mediated quickly."

"That sounds better than continuing the way you've been," Beverly said. "Are you planning to heal Jean-Luc?"

Deanna wasn't sure what to say to that. She pushed herself up, swinging the blanket out and up to drape it over her shoulders. The short walk to the replicator gave her a little more time to think.

"Dee, what is it?"

She'd delayed answering too long. "I don't know how to answer that question," she confessed, touching a preset and taking the glass that materialized.

"What? Wouldn't you want to?"

Beverly was smiling incredulously at her as she returned with her ebi'lan. "I don't know if there's anything left to heal."

"Wait, are we talking about the same man?"

Deanna sat down again, cross-legged this time. "I am. You haven't talked to him about some of his old traumas lately, have you? Does he seem particularly disturbed by having Madred's daughter aboard?"

The door opened before Beverly could respond to that. Jean-Luc, in uniform, looking every bit the captain, strode into the room. Deanna smiled up at him, knowing that with her hair down and wrapped up in a plain house dress and a blanket, all she had to do was invite him to smile at her in return, and she would see the captain vanish as she did so.

"You look better," he exclaimed, crossing the room. As he did so his smile brightened and his body language shifted. He settled on her right, and she thought he would simply take her hand but he reached with both arms for her. Rather than question or hesitate she put her tea on the coffee table and let him pull her to his chest, curling herself in a little and sliding her right arm around him as she felt his chin pressing the top of her head through her hair.

Beverly returned to feeling as she had before, a little uncomfortable, surprised, and then she was happy. Not as happy as Jean-Luc, and not in the same way, but it was better than being disconcerted. "I should go."

Jean-Luc let go, and Deanna turned back to their friend, holding Jean-Luc's hand tightly in hers. "Why?"

Beverly's smile dwindled a little, thinned, and she looked at them with affection and admiration. "Well... I know you don't have a lot of time to yourselves, typically."

"We also don't have a lot of time with our friends," Jean-Luc said, his tone warm.

"She's not used to seeing you take care of me," Deanna said offhandedly, squeezing his fingers. She watched Beverly's face shift to dismay.

"The other way around is perhaps more familiar."

 "I'm not quite used to what you've been doing, either," she continued. "Since you decided to take charge, be actively working to improve my mood since the twins were put in the incubator. Since you chose to not allow me to be in pain for long. You've started being a little more... public, about your feelings."

 She didn't have to look at him. She sensed his reaction, a little surprise, a little self-examination, and she could picture his expression easily enough. When she actually looked at him, he did indeed have a raised eyebrow, a questioning, not-quite-believing look in his eyes with a set to his mouth that matched it, and then it morphed into a smirk.

"I suppose I didn't think that it would present a problem," he said, with the arch humor he had with close friends.

"Other than startling Beverly I don't believe that it has." Deanna gave her head a shake and smiled, thinking about last night's vigil, and coming home with him this morning to find herself being put to bed as if she were one of the children. "Does it sound as though I'm complaining?"

"It stands to reason that I would relax, eventually, wouldn't you think? Isn't it usually the case that old married couples get complacent or -- what?"

Deanna shook her head, grinning, rolling her eyes and starting to laugh. "We're talking about the opposite of complacent. I guess you never talk to married couples about marriage."

It was predictable that he would scowl a little at it, even as he smiled along with her. "Not really, no. It hadn't occurred to me to do any research -- "

"You need to nip this in the bud," Beverly exclaimed. "If he figures it out, things will change."

That pulled his brows high, and Deanna laughed again. "I don't think he'll change -- he knows we're not going to be anyone's idea of normal. Also, he's been on a mission to keep me from descending into darkness. Which only makes me want to cry, for other reasons."

The statement put both Jean-Luc and Beverly into an awkward negotiation between responding and avoiding a potentially-uncomfortable situation where verbalizing what they all knew led to pulling Deanna into conversation about the twins. She could sense the feelings well enough -- the anxiety and concern were almost unbearable, making her regret saying a word. And just thinking about it gave her a twinge of pain, like the plucking of a guitar string deep in her soul, and it was perhaps a testament to just how determined Jean-Luc was to keep her from a full symphony of the same that he pulled, with the hand still holding hers, until she was in his arms again.

"Horrible," she murmured against his shoulder.

"What?" Beverly exclaimed, in a way that said she'd heard, but couldn't understand. But Jean-Luc didn't explain. His fingers smoothed down the back of her dress along her spine, generating a little heat with friction.

Deanna sighed heavily when the computer chimed a soft warning. "That's the alarm for the meeting with Yves' teacher."

As she predicted, Jean-Luc insisted on going, and left her there on the couch with Beverly, to watch him heading out with his usual determined stride. Beverly surprised her by reaching over to put her arm through Deanna's.

"I'm all right, you know," Deanna said faintly.

"I know." Beverly eyed her sharply. "I swear, every time I think I have your terminology figured out, you add something else."

Deanna sniffed. "I was being sarcastic." When that didn't satisfy her, Deanna patted her arm. "It was just a reaction to what he's been doing. Since he's been going to extra lengths to make me smile. I told him he was a horrible man, because every time I thought I couldn't love him more than I do, he does something else wonderful and proves me wrong."

Beverly grinned at it, with a little too much enthusiasm. The expression began to dwindle almost at once. "I'm not -- Dee, it isn't that I'm uncomfortable...."

"You thought that he didn't have it in him, to be this way," Deanna said, staring at the replicator instead of exposing her expression to Beverly. "But everyone does. Tom does. It's just difficult to believe that he would choose to be this way."

"Actually, I think what makes it difficult for me to see is that I know how he treats you on duty," Beverly said. "Because it's not like that with Tom. There are times he's been that soft, with Lora or with me. But Jean-Luc is still so rigid on duty with you, and that's not at all like Tom. I know -- you're about to say Tom on duty isn't like Jean-Luc at all. But -- "

"I know what you mean."

Beverly hugged Deanna's arm a little tighter. "It helps me understand a few things. Like why you're so willing to push yourself beyond limits you thought you had. I remember conversations we had, a long time ago. I remember you worrying about what you would do, if Will -- "

Just the mention of Will put tension in Deanna's body that Beverly must have noticed, thanks to her grip on her arm. When Deanna didn't speak, Beverly started to feel upset -- with herself, Deanna guessed. She put her hand over Beverly's and glanced at her. Beverly's cheeks were red and she was glaring at the floor.

"Has he told you about last year?"

Beverly's blue eyes came up, startled, and met hers. "Very little, I have the feeling. He was on leave for a long time, and you were in command. While you were pregnant with Amy. I remember not getting many replies to messages I sent him, and thinking that the ones I did get sounded... off."

"Dr. Leral told us that all Betazoid bonds occur because we focus more intensely on a person. He told me that I would have been able to develop telepathic ability much earlier, if I had focused more on doing so. He said that the bond with Jean-Luc started much earlier than we thought it did. Because -- "

Beverly waited patiently, feeling the affection she had often felt for Deanna, and wondering -- no doubt curious to see how this connected to what they'd been discussing.

"Since we saw Leral, Jean-Luc has been.... He was confident before. He was determined, to get us through this pregnancy and that I would be all right, and he would make sure of that regardless of what it took. But after we saw Leral -- I thought it was my imagination, or maybe I could sense nuances or subtleties now that I hadn't before. But I think that Jean-Luc is more confident in our relationship than he was. I think he still had some subliminal doubt that Will -- "

She couldn't say it, just as she had difficulty thinking about it. She wasn't sure why she was still trying to explain it to Beverly. But she didn't want to have the conversation with Jean-Luc, because it felt like a risk right now, and not having anyone else to talk to was making her mind run in circles at times.

"He thought that you having a bond with Will might be a problem, that you might be tempted -- I'm sure he's far too smart to actually believe that," Beverly exclaimed, angry on her behalf.

"I don't think it's really a conscious fear. But Leral said that bonds fade, even die, when the participants lose focus on each other. And I think that Jean-Luc was finally able to set aside that old fear. Since we met with Leral he's been more... I'm not sure how to say it. Sometimes Standard fails me. Grounded in the relationship, I think. And he seems more focused on me. Less reserved."

"He doesn't care what anyone else sees, or thinks, any more," Beverly said. "I think you're right. I have to wonder too if he's trying to make the bond you already have even stronger. It would be like him, don't you think?"

Deanna nodded, surprised and finding that the idea resonated. She thought about the day on Risa, and all the mornings he'd done her hair. All the times he'd dealt with the kids, when she was so exhausted, or held her when she couldn't stop the tears.

"Or maybe it's that," she said quietly. "Because he would, wouldn't he?"

"I guess it's a good sign either way." Beverly smiled sadly. "I'm glad we're talking like this, again. It's been a long time."

"Beverly," Deanna chided softly.

"We've told each other a lot, over the years. But that slowed down a lot when you started sleeping with the boss."

Deanna laughed with her, a little. "Well."

"I'm glad he's loosening up some. It's helping you do the same, just a little."

"Just a little?"

Beverly's eyes slipped down and away, the action coinciding with a hesitation and a curiosity paired with rather pointed concern that warned Deanna that she was about to shift the conversation again. "Dee, what do you know about Ceralia Baines?"

"I know her. She's an archeologist -- we brought her to Cardassia with us. You've met her?"

"Well... I was with him for a while, remember, while you were down there with Tom accepting those really, truly, awfully garish and ugly medals of honor for being heroes. And it was hard to find things to talk about. We played with Amy for a while, and then he took them to daycare, right on schedule. And he gave me a cup of tea. I asked him if he'd maybe visit the Hebitian ruins, while we're here. I expected a long diversion while he focused on that instead of the problems of the current Cardassians, or the K'korll, or anything else stressful. And he winced. That pained look we all know, that happens when we hit on something he's embarrassed about -- and then he started to talk about the Hebitian ruins, and how Lieutenant-Commander Baines would be heading for those ruins, he'd talked to her about that. He had that funny set to his mouth he gets."

"Oh, Bev," Deanna said with a heavy sigh. "I can't talk to you about that."

"And suddenly, we aren't talking again. Honestly, I'm not going to try talking to him about it -- I just never heard of her, ever, and I know he can't have met her before, she's too young and her service record makes it clear that she's never been anywhere else he's been."

Deanna closed her eyes. The beginnings of a headache settled behind them. "If I tell you, it's not something you can repeat. Especially not to him."

"How many things have I not said, regardless of how much fun it would have been?"

"Ceralia had a Betazoid grandmother. And she's beautiful, warm, open, and very attracted to him."

Beverly stared, the familiar wrinkling between her eyes starting. "And? He wouldn't have done anything."

"Not on purpose. But he did talk to her enthusiastically about their favorite subject, and she has enough empathic sensitivity to sense the bond, but not make sense of it, and she started to focus on it with great interest. It was enough for him to finally notice what she was doing and frighten him."

Beverly started to smile, but it was to her credit that she lost it again, as she noticed Deanna wasn't. "What happened?"

"He ran and hid in his ready room. I had to talk to her, figure it out, and reassure him that it wasn't his fault. He was terrified. He thought it meant something more than what it was -- he had no idea she wasn't entirely human, had no idea she was the one initiating the problem."

Blue eyes widened, and Beverly nodded slowly. "I see why he was so upset. He thinks he's the luckiest man in the universe with a one-of-a-kind bond with his lovely bride, and suddenly he gets a bit of a charge from a pretty new woman -- I'm surprised he didn't panic."

"He hid in the ready room. I tried to talk to him and he gave me an order to handle the guests, and told me he couldn't -- that was panic. You know how he deals with panic."

"Oh, god. No wonder he didn't want to talk to me about it." Beverly chewed her lower lip.

"Maybe he's just trying to prove something to himself," Deanna murmured. She looked down at her hands, now twisting the edge of the blanket. At the ring on her right hand.

"I suppose it's typical of him," Beverly said. "It's always been the one area of his life that he's been the most insecure about. He let Nella walk away without an argument. He doesn't -- Deanna," she exclaimed, when she noticed the look on her face. "Oh, no, what did I say? What is it?"

She fought it, but the tears came anyway and the slight headache worsened. Pressing her fingertips against the sides of her nose, she leaned forward, trying to force away how upset it made her to think that he might be doing all the things he did because he thought she might change her mind. Beverly's touch on her shoulder seemed to release the hold she had on herself -- she surged to her feet, shaking off the blanket, and froze when the doors opened. Jean-Luc had an alarmed expression as he came in, and hesitated as would a seasoned officer accustomed to being ready for anything.

"I'm sorry," Deanna said. "It's all right. I'm just feeling a bit overwhelmed. How was the meeting?" She looked him in the eye, thinking about how he didn't want to have the conversation with Beverly in the room. She knew he was as connected to her as she'd forgotten he was when he nodded and shot their friend a wan smile, and took the last few steps to close the gap between them. The embrace wasn't hesitant at all, but it was brief.

Beverly got up and gave each of them a hug, looking Deanna in the eye intently, and smiling at Jean-Luc. "I'll see you guys for dinner?"

"Certainly. Don't forget to bring Data and Phoebe." Jean-Luc watched her leave, and when the doors had closed behind her, turned to Deanna.

"I'm all right," she whispered.

His eyes held doubt. "What did she say? What upset you?"

"Nothing she said. I was just thinking about how hard you've tried, all the ways you've taken care of me lately, and how difficult it's been. How easy it would be for you to decide it's too difficult. I haven't thought that way in a long time, and I suppose I shouldn't have started -- I've been so sensitive lately to any old thing."

He snorted. "That wasn't all, Deanna."

"No... she asked about Ceralia."

"So you told her," he said evenly, feeling angry but keeping it tightly under wraps.

"She was sympathetic. She understood why you would panic about it." Deanna pressed her lips together and assessed his response, a slight decrease in anger. "It reminded me of something I didn't really think about. I'm not an easy spouse to have. It would have been easy to -- "

"Stop it!"

She flinched at his hard tone. And predictably, he regretted the outburst, and reached for her, holding her face in his hands.

"Stop," he said softly. "Never."

Deanna met his eyes steadily, the tears drying on her cheeks, and waited. She wondered if he were connected to her still, if he understood what she was telling him, and thought that if he were possibly feeling inadequate somehow or if he might be trying to repay her somehow, after all the time he spent on medical leave, he might just stop doing that.

His lips thinned into that grimace that usually meant he was tolerating foolishness. His fingers tightened along either side of her jaw. "Are we really going to have that argument? Why can't you simply let me be the kind of husband you deserve?"

She grinned, through happy tears. "It just -- I really am having this much difficulty, I guess," she murmured. "I'm sorry. It's just more mood swing, I think. I'll be all right."

A genuine smile was her reward. "Good. You have a headache. There should still be analgesic in the bedroom."

"Always trying to lure me into the bedroom," she joked, letting him pull her into the next room. "Horrible man."

 


	16. Chapter 16

Jil entered Ten Forward, thinking only about having something to eat before returning to her mother. She'd walked off a lot of the nervous tension generated by her contact with her father. Guinan gave her a subdued smile that suggested she knew what Jil was struggling with. Jil sat at the end of the bar, apart from the four people that were already there. After Guinan returned with her meal, a Cardassian stew that she'd discovered the hostess knew how to get out of the replicator just right, she sat eating in silence, ignoring anyone and everyone around her.

Until someone got her attention, loudly and rudely.

"Cadet," a familiar voice said urgently.

Jil gave Carrick a glance and turned back to face forward as she chewed.

"You're polite today," he exclaimed harshly.

"Almost as polite as some guy interrupting my meal," she said, as if commenting on how shiny the countertop was.

"Look, I think we got off to a bad start."

Jil gave him a bored stare, taking another bite of stew and chewing slowly.

"Can we call it even?"

Jil turned back to her bowl.

"Oh, come on, Miss Arran."

"Let me guess, you saw the light, decided to embrace Cardassia and give up your long-standing grudge against everyone who might be genetically similar to the evil reptile that killed your daddy. Your uncle, your mom, whoever it was. Or maybe you'd like me to believe that so you can get close enough to really stick it to me," she said, swooping the spoon in a circle around the bowl to catch the last big chunk of vegetable.

"You really don't trust anyone without scales, huh?"

"I don't trust people who give me no reason to trust them. Sort of a default setting. That includes my own father, just so you know you're in excellent company. I don't like people who set out to inflict pain, of whatever sort, on anyone. Not my preference."

"Huh." Carrick kept standing there, hands on his hips, looking at her nearly-empty bowl. "You think I'm here to cause you pain."

"Evidence so far seems to suggest it. Calling names, staring, glaring, all kinds of things suggest it. Suddenly having a change of heart without a precipitating event is highly unlikely."

"What if I just changed my mind?"

Jil stared at him and wondered if that might be true. Her hunch was no. The next thought was this might be what Commander Troi had mentioned -- the first step toward shooting himself in the foot, trying to outmaneuver her, to beat the Cardassian with typical Cardassian behavior. She considered playing along, just to see what he was up to, but thought about everything she had told her father, her mother, her aunt, and decided to just not play the game.

"I am sorry, for whatever happened to whomever it happened to," she said softly. "I don't know how you suffered because of some Cardassians I never even knew. I know how some other officers suffered, because my father showed me what he did to 'enemies' of Cardassia when I was small. I suffered, and all of Cardassia suffered, because of choices the military made on our behalf -- why do you think I want any part of anything you have planned to get even with them? You could recruit me instead -- humiliate them, by helping me succeed in Starfleet. But no -- you want to help them. You want to perpetuate the conflict. The hatred between the Federation peoples and Cardassians -- you can't possibly allow it to just die, already, because that wouldn't be fair to whomever you knew who suffered however long ago it was. Go ahead and keep scheming, and hating. I don't care. I have to catch up on classwork so I won't fall too far behind, so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to be really busy for a while."

He was staring at her in shock, by the end of it. She left the dishes on the bar and strode out of Ten Forward, not bothering to look back at him. He didn't matter, anyway.

 

===============

 

 

Deanna woke from her second nap of the day to find herself alone, in bed, in her rumpled blue house dress. In minutes she knew Jean-Luc was on the bridge, in the ready room, talking to an admiral. The kids were happy at day care. And she sensed Greenman, coming closer, hesitant but almost there with something she didn't care to report.

Taking a moment to tie back her hair, Deanna left the bedroom as the annunciator went off. "Natalia," Deanna said, giving the young woman a smile of greeting. She waved her into the room. "Is everything all right?"

"Sure. I wanted to see how you were doing. And talk about work, but you can tell me to go away, if you don't want that," she added, heading for the couch.

Deanna got herself some water, and some tea for Nat, and came to sit with her, handing her the cup. "I'm still having trouble, but I think it's getting better. How are the cadets coming along?"

"Well, that's the thing," Natalia said. She had an interesting mix of regret, frustration and even a little anger behind the rueful expression. "Most of them are fine. Some of them are driving me crazy."

"Carrick?"

"Guerney had a meltdown about not doing well in the last holodeck simulation. I had to send him to the counselor. Ma'grill is still a little testy, since the K'Korll thing, and punched an ensign who frankly really was quite rude, but I did remind her that verbal responses are preferable and had to write her up for physical violence. And yes, Carrick. He thinks he's being stealthy. Guinan told me that Jil Arran pinned his ears back in Ten Forward at lunch time, when she came in for stew."

Deanna went through the process of letting her guard down and sorting through the people she sensed for the young woman -- there was a lot going on with Jil, and some of it had to do with her father -- already, just in the few discussions where her father had come up, Deanna had identified that blend of emotions unique to Jil's memories about her father. She felt quite strongly about him, and in ways not dissimilar to how Jean-Luc felt thinking about Madred.

Thought of that particular Cardassian led to awareness of him; she refocused rapidly, turning her attention to the officer in front of her, instead of letting herself get more than a split-second of awareness of Madred's current state of being. She re-established shields and settled herself before bringing her eyes up to Natalia's, to find the young woman waiting with concerned brown eyes.

"I'm all right," Deanna exclaimed, leaning forward and putting a hand on Nat's knee. "The new order of things for me is to spend extra seconds blocking myself and keeping more than I want to sense at bay. It just takes a bit to do, until I have enough practice that it can be automatic."

"Okay," Nat said, her shoulders relaxing.

"I'm going to call Jil. Have her come see us. Is that all right with you?"

"Sure."

The cadet arrived within ten minutes of being summoned. Her face was impassive, but Deanna knew there was a lot of turmoil beneath that practiced expression. "Jil, come sit down," Deanna said when the cadet came to attention despite being in civilian clothing.

Jil settled uneasily in the easy chair in front of them. "Sir?"

"I know you've been on leave, with your mother, still. However, I wanted to check in with you and see how you are doing."

"I'm fine, sir."

Deanna regarded her solemnly, hoping her expression was enough to tell the cadet she didn't believe that.

"I contacted my father. I told him exactly what I thought, about everything he's done. And then I spent time calming myself, and when I ate lunch in Ten Forward, Carrick approached me trying to convince me that he'd changed his mind, that he wanted to be on better terms with me, and I told him he should leave me alone. That's all fine."

Deanna considered her response carefully. "Are you sure you are all right?"

"Positive, sir."

"What are you going to do now?"

Jil was keeping her eyes on the floor, but the question startled her, and she looked at Deanna briefly. "I... don't understand what you mean."

"You said you confronted your father. What will you do now? What do you think he will do?"

"He can't do anything. Can he?" Jil frowned. "You didn't beam down? Nothing happened?"

"I did, and Captain Glendenning and I confronted your father while we were there. As it turned out there was a bomb present, in the room during the ceremony. One that successfully avoided being picked up on scans we did. I don't know why he did not trigger it and kill us all. I think that it may have something to do with what I did, however."

Jil was staring at her as if she could not believe what was being said. "What you did?"

"When I was introduced to him it was clear to me that his anger was covering years of old hurts. He told you, I'm sure, about his childhood."

"One of the times he tried to convince me to come home with him, after Mother and I left his house. Yes. But that wasn't a reason to become cruel and sadistic -- why wouldn't he try to do things that ensured that wouldn't happen to more Cardassian children?"

"Not all children are resilient enough to recover from such conditions. Children who are malnourished and have no nurturing can have many problems later in life. And I know that counseling and psychology have never been a part of Cardassian culture, nor would I expect your father or any other Cardassian like him to want to willingly participate in it." Deanna caught herself -- she was avoiding really telling Jil about what happened. "I've been having difficulties with my abilities, as I told you before. One of the things I have discovered is that when confronted with what I sense to be trauma, something in me automatically reaches out to heal it. I think that happened when I met your father."

Another moment of incredulous staring. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know." Deanna inhaled slowly, calming herself. "I'm not certain how he has reacted to it, after the initial surprise I sensed from him. We left the room, and while he tried to talk to me after the conclusion of the event, I felt it better to return to the ship -- it exhausts me, and I wasn't quite myself. And Captain Glendenning was not -- I suppose you could understand how he might feel, in the situation."

Jil didn't appear to know what to say. She was anxious, that was clear enough, and a little hopeful, but a larger part of her was afraid.

"His name is Madred," Natalia said quietly, half-asking. "There's someone by that name trying to contact you, Commander. Every hour or so. The bridge isn't letting him get anywhere."

"Then they are obeying orders. Jil, I'm going to be in sickbay in an hour, with Dr. Belman, continuing to work on better control of my abilities. I know that you have been very angry with your father for a long time. I need someone to work with, to learn how to use the ability to heal trauma without exhausting myself. Would you be willing to help me with that?"

Jil smiled tentatively for the first time. "Yes, Commander, of course. Though I can't imagine not being so angry at him."

"There's something about anger and bitterness toward people who have wronged us," Deanna said. She smiled again, thinking sadly about Jean-Luc and all he'd gone through, and the determination to put it all behind him. "If we can't stop feeling it, those harsh, overwhelming feelings can keep us from being happy. It's true, that anger has driven some to great things -- motivated people to change the course of history, as well as their own lives. But it can also cause us misery, when anger continues to fester inside us."

Jil didn't look convinced. "Thank you, Commander. I'll wait for your call. May I be excused? I would like to go talk to Mother."

"Of course."

Natalia waited until the door closed behind Jil. "I kind of wish you'd had that ability, before, when I was in counseling," she commented.

Deanna gave the woman a fond head shake. "You don't get to rewrite things, Nat. Are you able to babysit tonight?"

"After alpha shift. This afternoon, I have Mendez at the ready to kick some cadets around during an evening workout. He's going to show them your martial arts class is a good idea. I'll be standing by to talk down the Bolian and Ma'grill, who'll still be pretty worked up. I think I'll be ready to relax with the kids. Amy's been such a little doll, lately, I'm so glad she's doing better."

"So are we. Thanks, Nat."

After Natalia left, Deanna recycled the glasses and returned to the bedroom. It was time to exchange the house dress for a uniform. She knew she wouldn't be back on duty until Mengis cleared her, but she was due in sickbay for an exam, prior to the next meeting with Rakai. Wandering about during the day in such a state of undress wasn't her preference.

 


	17. Chapter 17

Jil sat up from the biobed. She stared at the other biobed, where Commander Troi lay beneath panels that showed readouts she didn't understand. "I -- "

"Hold on, Cadet," Dr. Mengis said. "Let her come out of it."

Jil turned to her left, and the other Betazoid, Dr. Belman, stood there. He was taller than the commander, almost as tall as Dr. Mengis. His dark eyes seemed to always be smiling. "I feel fine, better actually."

"Try to think about the memory she helped you with," Mengis said.

Jil's mind jumped back to the memory, and she sat in stunned dismay as she thought about seeing the captain bloodied, naked, dangling between two of the soldiers -- the memory had faded and so had the feelings. There was a vague sense of fear, anger, but it wasn't anything like it used to be. She opened her eyes -- realizing as she did so that she'd closed them -- and saw that the commander had opened her eyes, sat up, and was watching her from the other biobed just a few feet away.

"Is this -- is this what it was like for him?" Jil stammered.

"I suspect so. How are you?"

"I feel -- lighter. Calmer. Thank you."

"You should come back to sickbay, if that changes," Mengis said. "You can go, if you like." The doctor's minimal smile was almost obscured by his black mustache.

Jil smiled at Commander Troi, and the smile she got in return was not like others the commander had given her. It was warm, almost fond, happy. "I'll see you tomorrow. I intend to check in with you, if that's all right."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

Jil left sickbay feeling dazed, disoriented, and headed for Mother's quarters. She had told Mother what was to be done, and while Mother had wanted to be there she'd asked for her to wait for her return. When she came in, Mother nearly smothered her in a warm embrace.

"Come sit down, let me get you something to drink. How did it go? You look stunned."

Jil let herself be settled on the couch and plied with hot tea. She thought about the experience in sickbay, trying to put words to it. "I don't feel so upset. Very little at all, actually. I can think of it without feeling like crying. I still get a little angry. I think -- "

Mother let the long pause draw itself out for a few minutes. "The bridge officer, the non human one, I think you said his name was deLio? He contacted me while you were gone. He told me your father is trying to contact me. I thanked him for the information."

"Mother, I need to tell you something. I talked to Father this morning."

Mother's expression was understated, disapproving, but she folded her hands in her lap and stared at Jil, waiting.

"I didn't let him say anything. I just told him his actions were wrong. That I wanted him to leave you and me alone. He isn't listening, but -- "

Mother's lips drew together and she inclined her head, looking at the floor. Disappointed.

"You're going to tell me it changed nothing. But I said what I needed to say. It felt good. He didn't get to tell me anything -- I didn't let him say anything." She thought about it. "I think... that was what helped the most. I was able to say what I needed to, and not let him do anything about it."

"I hope you don't try to do that again. Jil, as much as you've seen, I don't think you understand how dangerous Daran Madred is. It took me ten years of marriage to him to understand it. Trust me, Jil, do not allow him to -- "

"I promise, Mother. I won't contact him again. And you shouldn't go back to Cardassia."

Mother looked tired and defeated. "Jil, it's my home. Where else could I go?"

"To Bajor. Mother, go to Bajor and help -- there are still orphans there, Cardassian orphans, and there are Cardassians moving there as well, to learn agriculture and other skills that Cardassia needs. You could do that too. Go and find something to keep you there for a few years, and help Cardassia as you want to do, and bring some of those orphans back with you. There are Federation medical facilities there, too. You can get treatment while you're there."

Mother sighed, and Jil could tell she was about to object. Jil pressed on.

"Mother. You cannot tell me to underestimate Father and then pretend you will be able to go back to Cardassia yourself, alone. The farther from him that you can be, the easier it will be for me. He's trying to contact both of us. Something is going on."

Mother smiled then. "Then I suppose we are alike, in that."

"I'll talk to the captain in the morning. I don't think it would be wise for you to return to the surface, even for the time it would take to book transport."

 

===============

 

"Are you as tired as you were after Glendenning, or Madred?"

"No. I can still sense emotions, too. I was so depleted that wasn't possible, yesterday." Deanna watched Mengis checking readouts. "Greg?"

"I think you have been successful in finding a way to manage it without burning out," Mengis exclaimed, turning to Rakai.

< If you see, the psylosynine levels have stabilized -- low but acceptable. You should be able to use your healing ability without further damage to yourself. > Rakai gave her a bright smile. < Good work, Deanna. Not what you would have expected, when you were a student, is it? >

"No, it isn't." 

Mengis gave her a startled glance, then his green eyes went to Rakai, and she realized that Rakai had only been speaking to her. She smiled benignly at Mengis. 

"May I go? I'd like to check with you tomorrow, but I see it's getting late -- I want to spend some time with the children before they go to bed."

"Of course. I'll see you in the morning, Deanna."

Rakai came with her out of sickbay. < You have exceeded your goals, I see. >

< I suppose you could say that. > They hadn't reminisced at all -- she hadn't wanted to initiate any conversation about the past, because she didn't want to cause him discomfort. All their conversation had been based in the present -- their respective circumstances, their work, and more often than not her developing telepathy and the incident with the K'Korll. 

He, of course, picked up that line of thought easily. < I am not uncomfortable with thinking about being your client. Your help allowed me to be successful, and to finish medical school. I am more than happy to help you now. >

"I don't think I would have been able to get so far in so little time without your help. Thank you, Rakai."

< I think that your life has been more stressful than you have told me. I also think that you are stronger than you were, and than you believed you could be. >

They entered a lift and she spent a few moments enjoying that she could shield herself now, that thinking about people didn't mean tapping directly into their minds any more -- she had to do that prior to starting to work with Jil in sickbay, and Rakai's input had been valuable as he directly observed and suggested changes she could make. She still sensed the general emotions around her, but she had found that could be muted somewhat where before it could become overwhelming. Not having the combined pressure of all the depressed minds on Cardassia pushing in was in itself a huge relief -- she hadn't even realized how overwhelming it had gotten.

"I will come down tomorrow -- I want to meet with Ceralia. I had to cancel a meeting with her yesterday. If you're able to meet with me in the late afternoon?"

Rakai emanated embarrassment, after the mention of Ceralia's name triggered warm feelings. Deanna turned to look at him with wide eyes and a smile. 

< It was not expected. >

"I see," Deanna said. "But I think it is a good thing, perhaps a new thing?"

< Yes. > He shared the memory of meeting Ceralia at the hospital -- when she wondered why he had not met her aboard the ship, he reminded her that he did not enjoy socializing and tended to avoid places like Ten Forward. It was a curious attraction, if she thought about how outgoing Ceralia was, and how isolated Rakai tended to be. But who was she to judge, really?

She accompanied him to the transporter room, and left him there with a promise to see him the following afternoon, so they could check on recovery time and perhaps have a celebratory drink -- she had finally started to feel that she might be in control of herself at last. On the way to deck eight, she thought again about Jil, and her father, and that led her to thoughts of the ceremony yesterday -- she then reviewed what she had picked up from Madred the day before, during the chance meeting at the hospital.

When she arrived in their quarters, Jean-Luc was on the couch, the kids were playing on the floor -- she assumed it was play, it looked more like chaotically flinging blocks at each other or Fidele -- and she picked her way across to sit with her husband. He was, she noticed, reading an old-looking book.

"Maslow?" she asked.

"According to our good friend Abraham, I'm ready to move on to self actualization." Jean-Luc closed the book, dropped it next to him, and put his arm across her shoulders. "You look tired, Cygne."

"Yes. I'm happy to say we finally developed a method to keep me from depleting myself, so now I can actually use this new ability I've discovered."

His arm went tighter around her. "Wonderful. So when's my appointment?"

"Maybe next week. I've done enough for this week, I'm going to spend some time resting and playing with the children."

"Is that all you're going to do?" he whispered suggestively.

"All I'll admit to at the moment. Jean," she chided as he nibbled her ear lobe.

"Come on," Yves exclaimed, standing up.

"Where?" Amy let him pull her to her feet, wavering a little. "Why?"

"Fidele, put away the blocks," Yves instructed the dog imperiously. As usual Fidele did exactly as he was told, since it would lead to nothing more than a clean floor and would make Yves happy. While the dog picked up a block in his mouth and started shoving blocks with his feet toward the toy box in the corner, Yves led Amy toward their rooms.

"Why?" Amy repeated, not sounding so upset but starting to have a hint of irritation that she wasn't being told.

"Papa and Maman want to be alone," Yves replied matter-of-factly.

"I wanna play kadis-kot," Amy announced as they disappeared into the side door.

Jean-Luc stared after them, shocked. Deanna started to chuckle at it. "I suppose we might have told him something like that, a few times?"

"I suppose. Well, I hear opportunity knocking -- " His other hand found the edge of her jacket and started to tug on it.

"I think we need to do something before we indulge," she said softly. "Do you remember what I told you, about what I sensed from Madred when I ran into him at the hospital?"

"That he was planning to sabotage the Council... but to make them appear to be against Federation membership, they wouldn't blow themselves up. We've been reacting rather than analyzing, too much."

"Yes," she said. "We need to get deLio on the matter as soon as possible. I'd like to know who he was actually intending to blow up."

 "So you go run a bath, I'll contact deLio, and after I put the kids to bed -- "

"You don't want to go to the bridge?"

Jean-Luc sighed -- she felt it in her ear, through her hair, which he was industriously pulling from the tightly-wound braids on the back of her head with his left hand. His right arm was holding her in place against him. "Dee, are you aware of the time?"

"It's almost twenty hundred?"

"Almost," he said, sounding amused. "You are too tired. Go get ready for bed. I'll put security on the job, and we'll follow up in the morning."

"Yes, sir," she replied crisply, pulling out of his arms. He scowled up at her. "You wanted to give me an order."

As she left the room, he hailed the bridge. Once in the bedroom she asked the computer to fill the tub, and started to remove her uniform.


	18. Chapter 18

Jil went to the bridge, thinking about the conversation she was about to have with the captain, and at the ready room door as she touched the panel she realized she was assuming he would have the time to talk to her. She flinched -- but the door was opening, and she went in without pause, not wanting to appear hesitant.

He watched her approach calmly, seated at his desk as he'd been for most of their meetings. "Cadet Arran. How is your mother?"

"She's well, sir. I would like to ask your advice -- I am hoping to arrange for her to leave Cardassia. My father is apparently actively trying to contact her and I am concerned for her safety. He's left her alone for years, sir, without issues -- when he's contacted me he never tried to use her as an intermediary. I've never suspected he meant her any ill, however... things have changed. Commander Troi told me about the bomb. I don't have to understand everything he's doing, I just know it isn't going to be good for my mother to have contact with him."

The captain contemplated that seriously, for a bit. He leaned on his desk, mostly on his left elbow, and finally his eyes flicked up to meet hers. "I can understand your concern. Did she have any ideas of where she might want to go? I assume you're coming to me because you are hoping to keep her aboard. Our next port of call will be starbase 423, to drop off a transferring lieutenant on our way to our next assignment. From there she could take a commercial transport to wherever she wishes to be, within the Federation."

"We were discussing Bajor. She thought she might help with the orphanages there, that still have Cardassian children in them."

The captain nodded. "That sounds like a worthwhile, safe place for her to go. I'm sure the Bajorans would be more than happy to take her in."

"That's what I told her." Jil wondered if the commander had told him about the session in sickbay. "I appreciate your help, Captain. Thank you."

"The commander tells me you will be returning to duty tomorrow. I expect you'll have some catching up to do."

This was, from his tone, conversational rather than confrontational -- she smiled a little at him. "I have some of the class work done already. I'm looking forward to returning to my shifts. And I appreciate the commander's willingness to help me. I was tired last night but I feel much more at ease today."

The captain smiled. "Excellent. I'm glad you are feeling better. You seemed quite anxious."

"I was terrified. I didn't want him to kill you, or the commander."

"He'd have to work harder to do that -- he's at the disadvantage, at this time." Captain Picard studied her for a moment. "We're not going to let him harm your mother, either."

"Thank you," Jil exclaimed, fervently. "Thank you, sir."

A beep from the desk drew the captain's eyes. "I need to take this call, Cadet. You are dismissed."

"Sir."

Jil left the bridge and smiled in the lift. She exited near her mother's quarters and went in to tell Mother the good news.

 

================

 

Deanna pulled herself out of the water, leaving a trail of water on the tile floor. "Computer, end program." Once the pool and all the water disappeared, she went about putting her uniform on, braiding her hair, and pinning it up on her head. Her body felt the workout -- there was just a hint of soreness, but her muscles thrummed with energy. She found the third pip and put it in place, and left the gym at a brisk walk.

She practiced adjusting her mental shields in the lift, checking on everyone of concern -- the kids were fine, Jean-Luc was thinking serious thoughts. Tom was happy about something. Beverly was, too. When she ran through all the rest of her bridge crew and then Jil, things were as expected. She scanned farther and the ongoing low mood from Cardassia was as expected as well, though without the undercurrent of anger that had been present before Tom had killed the K'korll. A relief, that.

When she was admitted to the ready room, she found her captain so caught up in thought that he barely looked at her. He went to the replicator and returned with a tea tray -- this was unexpected, but she assumed it meant he had things to tell her. "How did it go?"

He was referring to the early visit to sickbay, for an exam to determine she was ready to return to duty. "Greg said that I'm fine. Neurotransmitters are back to almost normal. I was a little tired, but I led my class, went through my usual routine, and I feel better. I have an idea about Madred."

Jean-Luc wasn't surprised, and smirked at her as he reached for a croissant. "You want to answer one of the attempts to reach you."

"You have an objection?"

He sipped a little tea, nipped off the horn of the croissant, and reached for a napkin. "I think that it might be illuminating, as to what he's trying to do. You'd be able to tell if he lied to you, after all."

"Have we had any success finding the rest of the agents?"

"Two of them are in Tom's sickbay. deLio found one of them unharmed, still recovering from the K'korll incursion. One still unaccounted for. And the _Adamant_ is on its way back to McKinley for a thorough going-over, manned by a skeleton crew -- I sent along Mr. Edison to be in command."

Deanna picked up her cup and sipped. She was surprised to find he'd given her orange pekoe, instead of the usual. "I assume we have information on where the final missing agent was dropped originally?"

"deLio will be taking a team down again to canvas the area."

"Have they scanned with tricorders for human life signs?"

 "Among other things. I am starting to suspect that she is being deliberately concealed from us." He set down his cup and stared at his desk, or rather the air above it. "Her name is Lieutenant-Commander Marsten. She's assigned to the _Dauntless_. Karsden would be sending teams himself, if his entire crew hadn't been in the sway of the K'korll for a week until we arrived."

"I should go with the team," Deanna said. As expected, he glared at her with the intense dislike he had for that suggestion.

"deLio is perfectly capable of conducting a search."

"I hope that we don't find her dead," Deanna said. "Are the other tasks at hand going well?"

"The system is secured. The work on the Cardassian defense grid is continuing, and Movan tells me that the populace is using the outpatient clinic on the base more and more. Trying to deal with headaches and other issues from the K'korll."

They were interrupted by a page from the bridge -- Jean-Luc responded with a tap on his panel, and deLio announced, "You requested that I tell you when Madred attempted to contact the commander again."

"She's here with me. Put him through. Thank you, Commander."

Deanna inhaled sharply, trying to set aside the sudden tension rising, and settled into as relaxed a state as she could manage, reaching out through the mental blocks she had in place to find her sense of the man she would be talking to -- a quiet tone signaled the connection was established.

"This is Commander Troi," she said, as if responding to any other contact she'd ever had via subspace.

A pause, and she could sense distantly that he was surprised, a little taken aback even. "Commander. I'm so glad to finally reach you. I wanted to express my gratitude to you, for... whatever you did. I'm not even certain what changed, when we met. I hardly have the words to express the difference I feel, now."

Deanna hesitated for a moment -- she wanted to word her responses carefully. He was being sincere, so far, but she wasn't certain yet what he really wanted. "Pardon my confusion, Mr. Madred, but I am not entirely certain what you are referring to."

Now he was surprised, again. But he moved on, as she had hoped. "I had hoped that you might help me contact my daughter. As you work with her, now. I have attempted to do so, but she is no doubt avoiding me -- I wanted to request your assistance, in reassuring her that I am no longer angry with her, and merely wish to re-establish contact, not continue an old argument."

Deanna met Jean-Luc's gaze over the desk. The man was telling the truth, and not only that, he had the inner turmoil and tentative hope of someone who had made a mistake and hoped to fix it. "I can pass along your message. However, she does know about the bomb that was planted in the council chamber, which we found after the event -- I am not certain anyone could convince her that you were not intending to harm one of her friends and mentors."

Madred's response was an immediate riot of emotion that startled Deanna -- she tried to sort it out, so she could remember it all later, and waited for him to reply. She was watching Jean-Luc's face when Madred spoke again, so she saw his reaction as it happened.

"I regret the events that led to the existence of the bomb."

Deanna had to carefully control her reaction to that. Again, he was telling the truth -- she made a note to research whether Cardassians were capable of engrammatic disassociation. "You regret planning to blame the council for it."

Jean-Luc continued to stare at her as if she herself had gone mad -- the shock of hearing Madred express regret had not faded, and her continued open confrontation was adding another centimeter or two to the heights his eyebrows were achieving.

"I cannot dispute what you are saying. It occurs to me that you perhaps have your own intelligence, your own agents among us."

"I am sure that is what you suspect, anyway," Deanna said, trying to quickly sort and interpret what she was sensing, then form a coherent response. "But I know that what you have suspected and what is true have not always been the same thing. It's difficult to convince the true believer that something he believes so fervently is not true, especially if it once was. And I could not tell you if we have any agents undercover on Cardassia, anyway. I don't have that kind of clearance to begin with."

 Dismay, curiosity and more -- Madred was upset by her answer. A long moment passed in silence, and Jean-Luc leaned back in his chair, glaring at his desk -- at the lit indicator on it, signifying the open channel. 

Deanna struggled for what to say -- there was nothing left to say, really.

Except, perhaps, the truth.

"You should move on," she said softly.

A snort -- surprise, and she could imagine the rolling of the eyes.

"You're never going to convince Jil with words. Perhaps you should think about what you might do to earn her trust again. Something for Cardassia, that doesn't kill anyone or cause divisiveness or drive people apart."

"Commander, I hardly think you understand the Cardassian heart," he said, and the condescending tone made Jean-Luc flinch. A trigger, Deanna thought, dismayed and suddenly focusing on her husband, whom she'd blocked out to keep herself from distraction while talking to Madred. Her eyes met his, and without hesitation she sent a thought, an intention, to brush his mind and soothe away the lingering trauma that Madred's haughty tone had brought up. She lingered for a moment in heart fire with him, and then re-oriented herself again.

Madred was angry, and defensive, and hadn't noticed the moment of her distraction.

"I may not understand your Cardassian heart. But I do understand Jil's, rather better than you appear to. And you forget that other worlds were nearly destroyed by the Dominion, Mr. Madred. Cardassia was merely one of many. It's quite common for someone in misery to develop tunnel vision. You might study Bajoran religious practices to develop a larger understanding of the way out of your tunnel. There's certainly more to life than pursuing the misery of others in an attempt to share your own."

"What do you know of misery?" he spat.

She closed her eyes. For a moment, she remembered things she usually set aside in the past. "I know far more of misery than you have ever truly tasted, because I have known more love than you can imagine and there is no misery greater than seeing someone you love in such terrible pain. I know that you have always been angry, and that you long for more -- you long for your daughter's love, so pure as it was, so sweet -- and because you were so angry and full of hatred you allowed yourself to spoil that love forever by exposing her to the depths of your hatred. I am so sorry, Mr. Madred. So sorry for your lonely existence. So sorry that I am unable to help you recognize that you could simply change your mind, and be free of the anger. I wish that I could help you be rid of your old prejudices and your bitterness. But there are some gifts we must give ourselves. No one is going to be able to take you the rest of the way. May you find the love that cannot be earned, is never deserved, but is there for all to receive."

Deanna leaned across and touched the panel, and the channel closed abruptly. She raised her eyes again to Jean-Luc's, to find him blinking at her and a little tearful.

"I thought you said I didn't have any trauma left," he muttered.

"I was wrong, apparently."

"What was that you said, at the end?"

Deanna picked up her cup from the edge of his desk. "An old Betazoid blessing, loosely rendered into Standard."

Jean-Luc settled into a brooding silence, thinking, sipping his tea, and at last he sat up straight and looked at her again. "Commander," he began. But then he seemed to lose his train of thought.

"I think you were about to ask what I learned from that exchange."

"I suppose you would have told me already, if anything useful."

"I learned nothing about what he intends to do, and little about the bomb - he didn't lie, or deny. He was truthful in expressing regret for the bomb. He honestly wants to reconnect with Jil. But he will in the end live out the consequences of his choices, without any help from us."

"You gave him more than he realizes, no doubt. More good advice than he will recognize as such." Jean-Luc sighed, his lips twitching.

Deanna smiled at her captain and went for another cup of tea. "We should move on, and forget about Madred for now. I know we have more pressing matters to discuss."

He watched her return to her seat. "Yes, sir," he said, not sounding as sarcastic as he was.

"Sir?"

She waited, and the tension slowly drained from him, as he took a breath and settled himself. Jean-Luc nodded. "You want to join the away team because you believe you will be able to find Marsten where all else has failed, correct?"

"Yes, essentially. Although with the usual caveat that I cannot find unconscious targets. I think I will be able to discern a human in distress, among Cardassians."

"Then you should discuss with deLio and make the appropriate arrangements."

She nodded, rising to go.

"But you'd better not do anything... inconvenient."

"By which you mean, get hurt? I don't plan to, sir."

His expression said he knew how plans sometimes went, just the same. But he said, "Thank you, Commander. Dismissed."

 


	19. Chapter 19

Deanna thought about books she had read, fiction from her father's collection, that she had been collecting for her own children -- specifically Jungle Book. She'd always adored it as a child. Especially after Father's funeral, when at times home became so oppressively stressful and depressing that she had wished often that she could run through the jungle with faithful animal friends, instead of enduring another day of Mother's forced cheerfulness.

It was an antidote to their current environment, she supposed. Walking down a street on Cardassia almost required thoughts of the opposite to balance the industrial dullness of it all. Difficult to believe that this was once a world of artists. Everything in the capital was gray -- the buildings, the sky, the ground. Most of the roads and walkways were paved, but their search for the remaining agent was leading them in ever-widening circles from her last known location, her beam-down point. They were now on a gravel road heading east out of the city into suburbs, squat single-story houses with flat roofs and tiny yards, if there were any yard at all. Most of them seemed uninhabited.

"Still nothing," deLio commented, his attention divided between walking and watching the small readout on the tricorder. "What about you?"

Deanna came to a stop on a corner, and slowly turned in a complete circle, looking around, but also reaching out mentally -- there were people hiding in the houses. She could understand their reticence to come out. Some of them were angry. Others were simply afraid. Then she detected something else, something other than fear -- wariness, hope, a little anger. The wariness was a curious thing. She followed her nose, so to speak, heading north along another street between increasingly-derelict homes, and deLio and the other three security officers followed.

She knocked on the door and when it swung open, smiled at the person who opened it. "Sir, we're Starfleet officers, looking for an injured officer. Do you have a moment to speak to us?"

The door slammed. From the emotional response she sensed, they had found the right place. She gestured at deLio, backing away from the door, and the security chief sized up the front of the house, gestured at the burly Lieutenant Garmont, and together the two of them rammed the front door. It popped open and deLio shouted as he went in, weapon drawn.

Deanna gestured for the remaining officers to split up and started to run around the end of the house, and as she rounded the back corner she hit full stride, aiming for a fleeing Cardassian who was trying to run up the grassy slope behind the house. She snatched her phaser from the holster and stunned him, slowing down, and as she reached him she saw another leaving the house through a window and stunned him as well.

It took them a brief ten minutes to clear the house, apprehend the remaining three Cardassians guarding the unconscious human woman they found in a back room. She'd clearly been drugged. deLio contacted the base for a medical team, giving them coordinates. Deanna spent the wait searching the rest of the house for clues while the others stood watch over the stunned Cardassians, who would awaken any time now. There was little other than some furniture, some medical supplies, dirty dishes on the table and a little food in a stasis unit -- there didn't seem to be replicators in most of the lower class neighborhoods -- Deanna found a Cardassian style padd, in one of the bedrooms, and brought it out to the front room where the rest of them waited.

"Who are you working for?" Deanna asked a groggy man who was starting to sit up. He glared at her and leaned on his elbow, sneering at his companions.

"We'll get more out of him after we get him back to the base," Garmont said.

"He's probably working for one of the old guls," Deanna commented. The Cardassian showed nothing, but the spike in anxiety said she'd hit on something. "Possibly Madred."

The Cardassian gave her a cold stare, and beneath that angry expression she sensed the confirmation, a sort of heavy dread and roiling fear that might be related to the consequences of the man's failure.

"The same one?" deLio asked casually. He gave her a knowing look and she knew he was playing into it, to help her keep throwing out guesses and getting reactions.

"Yes, the one that put the bomb in the council chamber. He has a long history of hating Starfleet. Possibly enough to kill some of his own people to get to some of us." Deanna assessed the reaction to that, and sighed a little.

deLio nodded. "I doubt they will tell us anything useful. Perhaps we should let them go."

That startled the man. No doubt he expected torture, or death, from the nefarious Federation. She knew what was said on Cardassia, from what Jil had started to tell them, once she had begun to trust them more.

"Loyalty to your employer -- he's not military any longer," Deanna said, looking the Cardassian in the eye. "I hope it's worth your while, to be a traitor to Cardassia."

"I am not," the man spat furiously.

"Isn't it? If Cardassia is part of the Federation, if the citizens are also citizens of the Federation, then kidnapping and holding a Federation citizen is treason. Not patriotism."

"Traitors, all of them, striking a treaty with the Federation!"

"Shut up," rumbled one of the other men, shoving himself over to sit up.

Deanna heard the hum of a transporter, and glanced out cracks in the shuttered window. "Letting them go would likely be less merciful than a Federation prison," she said, glancing at deLio. "I doubt their employer would be so kind as to feed and shelter them."

The medical personnel from the base came in then, and additional security. She supervised further searching, with tricorders, and found nothing more, then after a brief discussion with the security chief from the starbase, one Lieutenant-Commander Roberts, she and the rest of her team beamed to the starbase. The transporter attendant was already communicating with one of the medical staff on site, and while they waited they listened to the attendant beam medical team and their patient directly to the hospital. Then as she heard the attendant discussing beaming the men in custody to the brig, Deanna dismissed the team to return to the _Enterprise_ and headed for the starbase commander's office. deLio, rather than linger to transport to the ship, followed her. She shot him a resigned look.

"It's a starbase," she chided.

"It is on Cardassia," he replied. "And you are like the captain, in finding ways to endanger yourself."

"Such generalizations," she exclaimed. deLio shrugged.

The largest of the buildings, a five-story white edifice with shining reflective one-way windows, was where the main offices were. deLio followed her up the wide steps and through the entrance. She went to the circular desk taking up half the foyer and asked after the location of Movan's office.

When they reached the open door of the captain's office on the fourth floor, the captain looked up from the monitor on his desk and nodded, and Deanna went in, only to find they weren't the only ones there. One of the legates from the Council -- Renarr, the one who had introduced them to everyone -- sat in one of the chairs facing Movan.

"Commander Troi," Movan said. "And Commander deLio -- were you successful in finding the missing officer?"

Deanna sat in the chair on Renarr's right, and deLio sat on her right. "Yes, we were. She was being held in a small house in a suburb, by five men. I asked them a few questions. They were acting on orders from Madred, I'm certain."

Renarr was startled -- he went rigid in his seat. Movan showed no external sign of distress, but she sensed a minute flicker of emotion that she interpreted as a resigned sort of dread. Deanna held up the padd she'd taken from the house.

"Do you read Cardassian? We found this in the house where she was held."

"Yes, in fact, I do." Movan leaned to take it as she passed it across his broad desk. He spent a few moments studying it, flicking from screen to screen.

"I have difficulty believing they would confess anything," Renarr said. "Not without persuasion."

"Legate Renarr, do you support Federation membership, for Cardassia?" she asked.

He was genuinely bemused by the question. "Of course. I would not be on the current Council, if I did not."

"Thank you," Deanna said, smiling. "I wanted confirmation -- I am an empath, Legate Renarr, and I can sense when someone is telling the truth. Are you allied in any way with Madred?"

"No," he blurted, feeling defensive and indignant. "I do not approve of his behavior as of late -- it's been clearer all the time that he has been planning sabotage. The moment your security officer, Mr. deLio, found the bomb I knew he had something to do with it."

"This contains information on how to keep a human medicated and alive," Movan said. "We will have it analyzed for trace DNA. How is Miss Marsten? I would like to obtain a statement from her."

"She was taken to the base hospital. You'll likely have an update from them when they complete an exam."

"When Captain Picard suggested having you lead a team where our teams failed, I was dubious. I have had our security searching since personnel have recovered from the K'korll incursion. How was it that you found her?"

Deanna glanced at deLio, and at Renarr, before returning her gaze to Movan. "Most of the population are in various phases of recovery from the influence of the K'korll. There is a lot of depression and anxiety, and residual fear. I searched for those who are feeling something other than those emotions. The people in that particular house were on guard, with a wariness and a level of resolve that stood out from the inhabitants of the rest of the houses. I followed my sense of those emotions."

Movan studied her with an impassivity typical of Vulcans. "I must confess, I would not have thought that empathy would lend itself so well to a search."

"Empathy, and I think intelligence and deductive skill," Renarr exclaimed. "This empathy, this was what you were doing at the ceremony, wasn't it? When you were speaking to Madred. I have to confess, Commander, I was shocked to hear you speak to him so boldly -- he still has influence here. Although... I suppose you would be less likely to understand that."

"I doubt his reach would extend to the ship," Deanna said.

Renarr doubted her confidence. It said something, she thought, about how much fear Madred inspired among his own people.

"I know officers who were tortured by Madred," she said. "I know how much hatred he has for Starfleet. But he will not be able to harm me."

Movan set the padd on his desk, folded his hands on the glossy white surface, and said, "Commander, I have done some research myself, on Daran Madred. As well as spending some time talking to him, about the future of Cardassia. The day you met us on the steps of the hospital he had come to me to ask for assistance in finding his wife."

"Yes, I know. She is with her daughter. What is your impression of Madred?"

"Madred appears in many Starfleet log entries, as a torturer. He also appears in many records in Cardassian databases as having served in the military, with some commendations, and his military service ended after the Dominion attacked and nearly destroyed most of the cities on Cardassia. When the Federation invited Cardassia's membership he stated publicly that he approved. However, there are those, Legate Renarr included, who have warned me that this is duplicity. And his behavior as of late confirms it. I believe I now need to secure the base, and begin to require security checks of all who enter or depart it, as well as the Cardassian government facilities. Those additional Starfleet troops that were brought will be helpful in that endeavor."

"On behalf of Cardassia, thank you," Renarr said to Movan. "And to you, Commander -- I hope your recovered officer is well enough to testify so we can bring charges where they are due."

"deLio and I will return to the _Enterprise_. The away team members can provide statements for you, if you wish," Deanna said. "If we are still in orbit we can testify in person in any proceeding that may arise as you investigate further."

"I will keep your captain appraised of the situation as it develops. Thank you, Commander Troi."

deLio followed her from the office, out of the building, back to the transporter room, and Deanna was tempted to go to the hospital, to see if Marsten had been treated and was conscious. But she left the matter to Movan, and once aboard went with deLio to the bridge.

Jean-Luc was where she'd left him, in his ready room, and he smiled up at her as she came in. "That was fast."

"It was indeed, and I spoke with Movan, who is handling the rest of the investigation as he should. He'll be requesting the additional personnel that we brought."

"I was about to head down to sickbay. Would you like to come?"

"Of course. Are we taking the children?" Visiting the twins was a family affair, now that they were recognizable as babies. In just a few weeks they would be able to remove them from the incubator.

"We can swing by to get them -- school will be out shortly."

"Madred was behind it," she said, and it stopped him before he could stand up from his chair. "I think some of his men, in whatever capacity they are his, found her after the K'korll were killed. She must have been in bad shape mentally. It's hard to say how it all happened but most of her prosthesis that disguised her as Cardassian were missing, and I have to wonder if that happened before or after they found her."

"And I wonder whether he gave the order before, or after, you intervened at the ceremony. His remark about intelligence when you spoke to him -- perhaps he misinterpreted the agent's purpose, after finding her. If he tortured her...." It put a distinct curl in his lip, thinking about it.

"The Cardassian government will likely allow us to try and convict him without comment," she said. "Legate Renarr was there with Movan when I spoke to him. He's an honest man, supportive of the Federation, nothing at all like Madred."

"If he tortured her, you should help her," Jean-Luc said.

"I'll offer her the choice. If she recovers. I hope she does. I think Movan will need her testimony."

"And yours?"

Deanna sighed. "If he wants it, he will have it. But I suspect he may have enough evidence, by the end of this. I should tell Jil and her mother, before then."

 

 

 


End file.
